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 Kiribati and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 rap 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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
The Five Americans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Martian,
Grey Daturas,
The Buckinghams,
Franke,
Oblivians,
June of 44,
Morten Harket,
Fat Boys,
Siglo XX,
Lakeside,
Porter Ricks,
Wasted Youth,
Lower 48,
Bobby Sherman,
Kurtis Blow,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dawn Penn,
Kaleidoscope,
Mad Mike,
Pagans,
The Wake,
Eve St. Jones,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minnie Riperton,
Eric Copeland,
Joyce Sims,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Cure,
Colin Newman,
Terry Callier,
Hasil Adkins,
The Dirtbombs,
Drexciya,
The Cowsills,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eddi Front,
Bill Near,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Letta Mbulu,
Marshall Jefferson,
David McCallum,
Sexual Harrassment,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
China Crisis,
Black Pus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultimate Spinach,
Girls At Our Best!,
Althea and Donna,
Soul Sonic Force,
Saccharine Trust,
The Beau Brummels,
Model 500,
MC5,
Susan Cadogan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Icehouse,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.