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 South Sudan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Sparks to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 J.B.'s,
The Velvet Underground,
Jeff Mills,
China Crisis,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Litter,
Hoover,
Tomorrow,
DNA,
Symarip,
Quadrant,
Tears for Fears,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Brand Nubian,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Invisible,
Simply Red,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pere Ubu,
The Flesh Eaters,
The American Breed,
Anthony Braxton,
AZ,
Rites of Spring,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Echospace,
Suicide,
Lower 48,
Magazine,
The Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
The Mummies,
Lee Hazlewood,
K-Klass,
Joe Finger,
Gang of Four,
Fela Kuti,
Crispian St. Peters,
Con Funk Shun,
the Sonics,
Sparks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Albert Ayler,
48th St. Collective,
Minor Threat,
Agitation Free,
The Victims,
Howard Jones,
Saccharine Trust,
Angry Samoans,
Brick,
Carl Craig,
Althea and Donna,
The Techniques,
Moebius,
The Wake,
Gregory Isaacs,
Shoche,
Dawn Penn,
Glenn Branca,
World's Most,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.