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 Malawi and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin 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 the Fania All-Stars to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
The Fuzztones,
Shuggie Otis,
The Leaves,
Donald Byrd,
Brand Nubian,
Aural Exciters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
a-ha,
Leonard Cohen,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultimate Spinach,
Franke,
Malaria!,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Wake,
Yusef Lateef,
the Association,
The Smoke,
Duran Duran,
Yellowson,
the Swans,
D'Angelo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hoover,
The Gun Club,
Vladislav Delay,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Prunes,
Audionom,
David McCallum,
Qualms,
Chris & Cosey,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Robert Görl,
Eddi Front,
Judy Mowatt,
Moby Grape,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Country Joe & The Fish,
James White and The Blacks,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Techniques,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lower 48,
Aloha Tigers,
Cal Tjader,
Ken Boothe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Young Rascals,
La Düsseldorf,
Zapp,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Smiths,
Adolescents,
Unrelated Segments,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.