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 Ivory Coast and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Music Machine,
Girls At Our Best!,
K-Klass,
the Association,
The Buckinghams,
Wolf Eyes,
Hoover,
Excepter,
Surgeon,
U.S. Maple,
Parry Music,
Section 25,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Flesh Eaters,
Blossom Toes,
Bush Tetras,
Trumans Water,
Godley & Creme,
The Last Poets,
Colin Newman,
Mad Mike,
Bauhaus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Graham Central Station,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pierre Henry,
Jeff Lynne,
Lee Hazlewood,
Robert Wyatt,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aural Exciters,
Lalo Schifrin,
Skriet,
Chris Corsano,
Depeche Mode,
Mark Hollis,
The Techniques,
Black Pus,
Roy Ayers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Moleskins,
Brand Nubian,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Janne Schatter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tres Demented,
Vladislav Delay,
The Index,
Panda Bear,
World's Most,
Toni Rubio,
The Barracudas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Donald Byrd,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kayak,
Marcia Griffiths,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.