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 Cape Verde and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Anthony Braxton 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 the Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amon Düül II,
Gong,
Heaven 17,
Howard Jones,
Charles Mingus,
The Blues Magoos,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott Heron,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dawn Penn,
Faust,
Skaos,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Roy Ayers,
Popol Vuh,
Marvin Gaye,
Deakin,
Ultra Naté,
Yellowson,
Lou Reed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
Spoonie Gee,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Soft Cell,
Scratch Acid,
Khruangbin,
Shoche,
Roger Hodgson,
Brothers Johnson,
Soft Cell,
Eve St. Jones,
Hardrive,
Camouflage,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Visage,
The Selecter,
Mission of Burma,
EPMD,
Soul II Soul,
The Standells,
The Monochrome Set,
MDC,
Chris Corsano,
Icehouse,
Yusef Lateef,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Patti Smith,
The Fugs,
Babytalk,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nick Fraelich,
Ken Boothe,
Fatback Band,
John Cale,
The Real Kids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Iggy Pop,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.