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 Czech Republic and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Duran Duran to the techno 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
Sandy B,
Scrapy,
Freddie Wadling,
Pagans,
Tim Buckley,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Magazine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Radio Birdman,
Das Ding,
Bang On A Can,
Wasted Youth,
Essential Logic,
A Certain Ratio,
8 Eyed Spy,
Saccharine Trust,
Infiniti,
Outsiders,
K-Klass,
Procol Harum,
Sarah Menescal,
Mo-Dettes,
Surgeon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
Desert Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Boz Scaggs,
cv313,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
The Offenders,
Chris & Cosey,
Barry Ungar,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Henry Cow,
Kenny Larkin,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Sonics,
Drexciya,
Goldenarms,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rakim,
Man Parrish,
The Stooges,
Pharoah Sanders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Theoretical Girls,
The Residents,
Groovy Waters,
Ronan,
Severed Heads,
Con Funk Shun,
D'Angelo,
Accadde A,
Bluetip,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.