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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bologna.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 James White and The Blacks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
The United States of America,
The Stooges,
Bush Tetras,
Marmalade,
Mantronix,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Music Machine,
Crooked Eye,
Black Bananas,
Erykah Badu,
The Real Kids,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Trojans,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Angels of Light,
Cal Tjader,
The Vogues,
Sandy B,
The Martian,
The Sonics,
The Count Five,
Pere Ubu,
Steve Hackett,
Soulsonic Force,
Zero Boys,
The Knickerbockers,
the Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fugs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sugar Minott,
Curtis Mayfield,
Todd Terry,
Lucky Dragons,
The Gladiators,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lightning Bolt,
MDC,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roger Hodgson,
Severed Heads,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Newcleus,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cowsills,
Bluetip,
Graham Central Station,
Fela Kuti,
The Fire Engines,
Kerrie Biddell,
Junior Murvin,
The Moody Blues,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wire,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Donny Hathaway,
Fugazi,
Fear,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.