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 Korea South and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Red Krayola to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arcadia,
Mars,
Soul II Soul,
Bob Dylan,
Slick Rick,
Basic Channel,
Pylon,
Fat Boys,
Public Enemy,
Sixth Finger,
Harry Pussy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Boz Scaggs,
DJ Style,
Sun City Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Machine,
Newcleus,
The Searchers,
Suicide,
Traffic Nightmare,
Junior Murvin,
The Blackbyrds,
Schoolly D,
Erykah Badu,
Alton Ellis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Warsaw,
Arthur Verocai,
Easy Going,
Mr. Review,
Technova,
Girls At Our Best!,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tomorrow,
Brass Construction,
the Slits,
Aswad,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dave Gahan,
Howard Jones,
Kerrie Biddell,
Swell Maps,
Cymande,
Derrick May,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Faust,
Von Mondo,
Ornette Coleman,
New Age Steppers,
Lungfish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Birthday Party,
Stereo Dub,
UT,
Archie Shepp,
OOIOO,
The Fugs,
Vainqueur,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.