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 Costa Rica and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Stockholm.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Accadde A,
Marine Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Oneida,
Nico,
DJ Style,
Prince Buster,
John Holt,
Ossler,
Clear Light,
Banda Bassotti,
Buzzcocks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Goldenarms,
Public Image Ltd.,
Severed Heads,
The Barracudas,
Darondo,
Junior Murvin,
Warren Ellis,
Nas,
Monolake,
Duran Duran,
David Bowie,
Royal Trux,
Vainqueur,
Japan,
Bang On A Can,
T.S.O.L.,
Skriet,
Sun Ra,
Young Marble Giants,
48th St. Collective,
MC5,
The Seeds,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sonics,
Sex Pistols,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Patti Smith,
Joyce Sims,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aaron Thompson,
Spoonie Gee,
The Star Department,
Bill Near,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tomorrow,
Albert Ayler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Slits,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Parry Music,
Outsiders,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.