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 Algeria and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 OOIOO to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiohead,
Blossom Toes,
Popol Vuh,
The J.B.'s,
New Age Steppers,
Whodini,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David McCallum,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Invisible,
Godley & Creme,
Suicide,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gabor Szabo,
The Real Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Velvet Underground,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Star Department,
Neil Young,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fatback Band,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cameo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lebanon Hanover,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Sherman,
Tim Buckley,
Section 25,
The Doors,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bobby Byrd,
The Trojans,
Vainqueur,
The Walker Brothers,
Von Mondo,
Country Teasers,
The Standells,
Derrick Morgan,
Alphaville,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hot Snakes,
Motorama,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cal Tjader,
The Birthday Party,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
CMW,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Pus,
the Normal,
H. Thieme,
Mark Hollis,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott Heron,
48th St. Collective,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.