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 Jamaica and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Prince Buster to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Danielle Patucci,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Amazonics,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Count Five,
Y Pants,
Jacob Miller,
Lindisfarne,
Colin Newman,
Sparks,
Pagans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Axelrod,
The Last Poets,
Minutemen,
Nas,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lungfish,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Image Ltd.,
Simply Red,
Eden Ahbez,
Stockholm Monsters,
Monks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lucky Dragons,
The Human League,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Make Up,
Circle Jerks,
Trumans Water,
The J.B.'s,
DJ Sneak,
Gong,
Loose Ends,
China Crisis,
Metal Thangz,
The Electric Prunes,
Erykah Badu,
UT,
The Cramps,
Ossler,
Davy DMX,
Qualms,
The Misunderstood,
Popol Vuh,
Sun Ra,
Susan Cadogan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Alton Ellis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pantaleimon,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soft Machine,
Nils Olav,
A Certain Ratio,
Barrington Levy,
Ponytail,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.