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 Taiwan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Donny Hathaway to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Vladislav Delay,
Wolf Eyes,
The Misunderstood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Magma,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bootsy Collins,
Jacques Brel,
Gil Scott Heron,
Henry Cow,
Zero Boys,
The Fuzztones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The J.B.'s,
Scientists,
The Mummies,
Dual Sessions,
Flash Fearless,
CMW,
Warren Ellis,
Pulsallama,
Ituana,
Steve Hackett,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Names,
Carl Craig,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Wyatt,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Fire Engines,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Funkadelic,
Eurythmics,
Gong,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rod Modell,
The Index,
The Beau Brummels,
48th St. Collective,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Japan,
The Vogues,
Dennis Brown,
Drexciya,
Arcadia,
Sun Ra,
World's Most,
Mark Hollis,
Quando Quango,
Lower 48,
Erasure,
Danielle Patucci,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Alton Ellis,
Franke,
Stockholm Monsters,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.