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 Micronesia and from Madrid.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 Charles Mingus to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Deadbeat,
This Heat,
Moby Grape,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glambeats Corp.,
Judy Mowatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lungfish,
Matthew Halsall,
Brothers Johnson,
Eurythmics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Half Japanese,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sight & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Ornette Coleman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ponytail,
Prince Buster,
Chris & Cosey,
Banda Bassotti,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Black Dice,
the Swans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Blake Baxter,
Nico,
The Zeros,
Kenny Larkin,
Wasted Youth,
Minnie Riperton,
Gabor Szabo,
Marvin Gaye,
the Sonics,
Scientists,
Silicon Teens,
Cymande,
Moebius,
The Selecter,
Sister Nancy,
Youth Brigade,
Quando Quango,
Pole,
Mad Mike,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monochrome Set,
Jacques Brel,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Oneida,
Warsaw,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Vogues,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fatback Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Christie,
Unwound,
Lakeside,
Lower 48,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.