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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Shadows of Knight to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Carl Craig,
Morten Harket,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fear,
The Flesh Eaters,
June of 44,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bauhaus,
Deadbeat,
Lucky Dragons,
Swans,
Bush Tetras,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Shadows of Knight,
Zero Boys,
Gang Starr,
Eli Mardock,
The American Breed,
Sparks,
Bobby Byrd,
Fatback Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Eddi Front,
Metal Thangz,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Robert Görl,
Peter and Kerry,
Blancmange,
Toni Rubio,
The Beau Brummels,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Andrew Hill,
The Pretty Things,
Lyres,
Wasted Youth,
Yusef Lateef,
Patti Smith,
Tommy Roe,
The Alarm Clocks,
Theoretical Girls,
Charles Mingus,
The Searchers,
Depeche Mode,
Grey Daturas,
The Saints,
Crime,
Kayak,
Matthew Bourne,
Suburban Knight,
Joe Finger,
Sister Nancy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Womack,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flipper,
Make Up,
The Skatalites,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Donny Hathaway,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.