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 Lagos.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
the Germs,
Brick,
The Walker Brothers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Theoretical Girls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
These Immortal Souls,
Hasil Adkins,
Surgeon,
The Leaves,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Toasters,
Malaria!,
Cal Tjader,
Brothers Johnson,
Marc Almond,
Eve St. Jones,
Camberwell Now,
Althea and Donna,
Ituana,
Blossom Toes,
OOIOO,
Nick Fraelich,
Porter Ricks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Hardrive,
Oblivians,
The Sound,
Slick Rick,
Joey Negro,
Minnie Riperton,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mantronix,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The American Breed,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
ABC,
The Searchers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mandrill,
The Associates,
Underground Resistance,
Soul II Soul,
MDC,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lucky Dragons,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sixth Finger,
James White and The Blacks,
Ossler,
Tim Buckley,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Newcleus,
Sarah Menescal,
Fatback Band,
China Crisis,
Morten Harket,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.