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 Colombia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Cecil Taylor to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wasted Youth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
These Immortal Souls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
One Last Wish,
Banda Bassotti,
The Blues Magoos,
Sam Rivers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kas Product,
Eric Dolphy,
Sight & Sound,
The Last Poets,
Minnie Riperton,
Idris Muhammad,
Cameo,
John Holt,
The Litter,
Crash Course in Science,
Letta Mbulu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Whodini,
Judy Mowatt,
Pylon,
The Raincoats,
Mark Hollis,
Cheater Slicks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sandy B,
The Victims,
The Gladiators,
The Neon Judgement,
the Soft Cell,
Ken Boothe,
Fela Kuti,
Mandrill,
Ponytail,
UT,
a-ha,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Arab on Radar,
FM Einheit,
Terrestrial Tones,
David Bowie,
Cecil Taylor,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pierre Henry,
Massinfluence,
Scion,
Stetsasonic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Invisible,
the Germs,
CMW,
Matthew Bourne,
Dual Sessions,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.