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 Ghana and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron 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 Spoonie Gee to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
The Zeros,
Black Bananas,
Wally Richardson,
Motorama,
The Knickerbockers,
Subhumans,
Peter and Kerry,
The Moody Blues,
Wasted Youth,
Eric Copeland,
Khruangbin,
Theoretical Girls,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gap Band,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Basic Channel,
Harmonia,
Shoche,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Buckinghams,
Spandau Ballet,
Bad Manners,
Godley & Creme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharoah Sanders,
John Coltrane,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
The J.B.'s,
The Last Poets,
Symarip,
The Smoke,
The Invisible,
T. Rex,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
Reagan Youth,
Absolute Body Control,
DNA,
H. Thieme,
Siglo XX,
Accadde A,
Sam Rivers,
Index,
Joey Negro,
Fear,
The Victims,
Wings,
Tommy Roe,
Brothers Johnson,
Scan 7,
Quantec,
the Sonics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
D'Angelo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lower 48,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Piero Umiliani,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.