Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Malawi and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Hot Snakes,
The Saints,
Alice Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Talk Talk,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
MC5,
The Fugs,
The Angels of Light,
The Litter,
Neu!,
Faust,
Little Man,
Lightning Bolt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lucky Dragons,
Toni Rubio,
Mission of Burma,
Leonard Cohen,
Youth Brigade,
Gang Starr,
Frankie Knuckles,
MDC,
Godley & Creme,
Joensuu 1685,
Amazonics,
Freddie Wadling,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Make Up,
Electric Prunes,
Procol Harum,
Aswad,
Kerri Chandler,
Fat Boys,
Todd Terry,
Babytalk,
Yellowson,
David Bowie,
Big Daddy Kane,
E-Dancer,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Invisible,
Lou Christie,
Lindisfarne,
Soft Cell,
Q65,
Wally Richardson,
Albert Ayler,
Infiniti,
Joe Finger,
The Selecter,
Camberwell Now,
Black Bananas,
Deadbeat,
The Cowsills,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mary Jane Girls,
Vainqueur,
Porter Ricks,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.