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 Spain and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba 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 Ornette Coleman to the disco 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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Malaria!,
kango's stein massive,
Black Sheep,
The Motions,
Blossom Toes,
Funkadelic,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Red Krayola,
F. McDonald,
The Music Machine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neu!,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Buckinghams,
Dennis Brown,
Schoolly D,
Shuggie Otis,
New Age Steppers,
The Wake,
The Moody Blues,
The Divine Comedy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Interpol,
Procol Harum,
48th St. Collective,
Fluxion,
Stetsasonic,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sun Ra,
the Association,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Pus,
Ituana,
Soulsonic Force,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
Unwound,
Juan Atkins,
Leonard Cohen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Donny Hathaway,
Mandrill,
Deadbeat,
Average White Band,
Joyce Sims,
Main Source,
Heaven 17,
Boogie Down Productions,
Glambeats Corp.,
Al Stewart,
Mars,
Sex Pistols,
LL Cool J,
Godley & Creme,
The Barracudas,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
Josef K,
Lindisfarne,
Guru Guru,
the Sonics,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.