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 Jamaica and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Oneida to the disco 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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Main Source,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Womack,
Minutemen,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry's Kids,
Zero Boys,
Young Marble Giants,
Bronski Beat,
Crooked Eye,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Terry Callier,
Arthur Verocai,
Visage,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eric Copeland,
The American Breed,
Pylon,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Moleskins,
The Leaves,
Saccharine Trust,
Pantytec,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dorothy Ashby,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yusef Lateef,
UT,
CMW,
Mad Mike,
John Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
Chris Corsano,
Boz Scaggs,
Cheater Slicks,
Malaria!,
Ultimate Spinach,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Oneida,
Quando Quango,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hot Snakes,
Yaz,
the Soft Cell,
John Lydon,
Warsaw,
The Stooges,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Walker Brothers,
Negative Approach,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Animal Collective,
Tubeway Army,
Toni Rubio,
Wasted Youth,
Altered Images,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.