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 Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 sitar 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 Parry Music 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sugar Minott,
Connie Case,
L. Decosne,
Parry Music,
Crooked Eye,
Gong,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mars,
Surgeon,
R.M.O.,
Minor Threat,
Jeff Lynne,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Niagra,
Al Stewart,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Last Poets,
Au Pairs,
Arthur Verocai,
The Associates,
The Fortunes,
Sonic Youth,
Erykah Badu,
Magma,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Todd Rundgren,
Brass Construction,
Fatback Band,
Skriet,
The Sound,
Ken Boothe,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scratch Acid,
Bush Tetras,
Lee Hazlewood,
Scion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Los Fastidios,
Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
Ludus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Radio Birdman,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
The Skatalites,
Donald Byrd,
Soul II Soul,
Barry Ungar,
Johnny Osbourne,
Essential Logic,
Suburban Knight,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eurythmics,
Television,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Barbara Tucker,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.