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 Ivory Coast 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Basic Channel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
the Bar-Kays,
Marine Girls,
Letta Mbulu,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
DNA,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Agent Orange,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
Qualms,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Khruangbin,
Heaven 17,
Cecil Taylor,
Spoonie Gee,
Stockholm Monsters,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Robert Hood,
Lucky Dragons,
Monolake,
Kerri Chandler,
Jeff Mills,
Radiohead,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Stooges,
The Moleskins,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marvin Gaye,
Shoche,
The Dead C,
The Divine Comedy,
the Slits,
Ultra Naté,
Kas Product,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Average White Band,
Eddi Front,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ohio Players,
Desert Stars,
Wasted Youth,
The Blackbyrds,
Hot Snakes,
Andrew Hill,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arthur Verocai,
Loose Ends,
Swell Maps,
Sight & Sound,
Pantytec,
The Motions,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fire Engines,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Con Funk Shun,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.