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 Namibia and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Boogie Down Productions to the rap 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Talk Talk,
Spoonie Gee,
Stereo Dub,
Maurizio,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agitation Free,
the Bar-Kays,
The Gun Club,
The Gories,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Germs,
Charles Mingus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brass Construction,
Sällskapet,
Johnny Clarke,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Scott Walker,
Jeff Lynne,
Henry Cow,
Letta Mbulu,
Zero Boys,
Heaven 17,
Mars,
Rosa Yemen,
the Slits,
Lee Hazlewood,
Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Donny Hathaway,
Wolf Eyes,
Absolute Body Control,
Niagra,
Procol Harum,
The Misunderstood,
Graham Central Station,
Can,
World's Most,
Soul II Soul,
Little Man,
Godley & Creme,
Leonard Cohen,
John Foxx,
Deepchord,
Masters at Work,
Sexual Harrassment,
K-Klass,
Alice Coltrane,
Rekid,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bill Wells,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Peter & Gordon,
Joe Finger,
The Leaves,
Duran Duran,
Dark Day,
Minnie Riperton,
ABBA,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.