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 Guinea and from Manila.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Theoretical Girls to the jazz 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Television,
June of 44,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Interpol,
Organ,
Fatback Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
KRS-One,
Amazonics,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Agitation Free,
Can,
Dead Boys,
The Happenings,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Dead C,
Darondo,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Cramps,
Eurythmics,
Con Funk Shun,
Ice-T,
Terry Callier,
Sister Nancy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marmalade,
Tommy Roe,
Drexciya,
The Busters,
Pylon,
The Victims,
Idris Muhammad,
Japan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joe Finger,
Zero Boys,
Eddi Front,
Scrapy,
Minnie Riperton,
Porter Ricks,
Livin' Joy,
The Golliwogs,
Black Sheep,
Adolescents,
Derrick May,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Hoover,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Loose Ends,
Reagan Youth,
Harmonia,
Nils Olav,
Kerri Chandler,
Das Ding,
The Divine Comedy,
Shuggie Otis,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.