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 Qatar and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 In Retrospect to the grime 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
The Black Dice,
Eddi Front,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
Crooked Eye,
Don Cherry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Laurel Aitken,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moby Grape,
The Sound,
Carl Craig,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sonic Youth,
Alison Limerick,
Soul II Soul,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scott Walker,
Easy Going,
L. Decosne,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
Hashim,
Drexciya,
Mantronix,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cybotron,
The Dave Clark Five,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Althea and Donna,
Slick Rick,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Grass Roots,
10cc,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Reed,
Ultra Naté,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bronski Beat,
Deadbeat,
The Offenders,
Prince Buster,
Barry Ungar,
The Cramps,
Crime,
Pole,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bad Manners,
Sparks,
Chris & Cosey,
Sight & Sound,
Lakeside,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Quando Quango,
Lungfish,
Pulsallama,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers,
Avey Tare,
Porter Ricks,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.