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 Grenada and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Nile Rodgers 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 La Düsseldorf to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Matthew Halsall,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Man Parrish,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Funkadelic,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marine Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Outsiders,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crash Course in Science,
Althea and Donna,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eric B and Rakim,
Model 500,
The Dave Clark Five,
Technova,
Godley & Creme,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Y Pants,
The Raincoats,
Fatback Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Nik Kershaw,
Jawbox,
the Bar-Kays,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tubeway Army,
Bill Wells,
R.M.O.,
Los Fastidios,
Stiv Bators,
Davy DMX,
Adolescents,
La Düsseldorf,
The Martian,
Kevin Saunderson,
Dead Boys,
The Sound,
Derrick May,
Reagan Youth,
Bootsy Collins,
Joe Finger,
The Kinks,
ABC,
Isaac Hayes,
Heaven 17,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Saints,
Kenny Larkin,
Guru Guru,
The Fugs,
Swell Maps,
Moebius,
Arcadia,
Lou Christie,
Angry Samoans,
Sarah Menescal,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.