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 South Sudan and from Manchester.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Starr to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
James White and The Blacks,
The Red Krayola,
A Certain Ratio,
Funkadelic,
Outsiders,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Sheep,
Quadrant,
Mission of Burma,
Loose Ends,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Velvet Underground,
Fluxion,
The Trojans,
Royal Trux,
Rosa Yemen,
The Seeds,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marcia Griffiths,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Moby Grape,
Arthur Verocai,
FM Einheit,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The New Christs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Technova,
Japan,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Görl,
Popol Vuh,
Blancmange,
Spoonie Gee,
New York Dolls,
Con Funk Shun,
Neil Young,
UT,
Grandmaster Flash,
Negative Approach,
Silicon Teens,
Can,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Circle Jerks,
kango's stein massive,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Wake,
Audionom,
Massinfluence,
The Searchers,
Jeff Lynne,
The Electric Prunes,
Crooked Eye,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.