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 Belarus and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Crispian St. Peters to the grunge 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Scientists,
Deakin,
Pussy Galore,
Marcia Griffiths,
Chris & Cosey,
Danielle Patucci,
Adolescents,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The New Christs,
In Retrospect,
Television Personalities,
CMW,
Pharoah Sanders,
Surgeon,
Funkadelic,
Television,
Tim Buckley,
Black Bananas,
Stetsasonic,
Subhumans,
The Mojo Men,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Seeds,
The Shadows of Knight,
New Age Steppers,
Black Moon,
Althea and Donna,
Thompson Twins,
Bad Manners,
Bang On A Can,
The Residents,
Monolake,
Roy Ayers,
Procol Harum,
Neu!,
Eric Copeland,
Public Enemy,
Amazonics,
Severed Heads,
The Trojans,
Duran Duran,
Franke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Morten Harket,
Schoolly D,
Andrew Hill,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Juan Atkins,
World's Most,
Bobby Womack,
The Associates,
Excepter,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roxy Music,
Brass Construction,
The Gories,
The Buckinghams,
The Fortunes,
The Toasters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Groovy Waters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Anthony Braxton,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.