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 Finland and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cecil Taylor to the rap 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Marshall Jefferson,
Funkadelic,
Rites of Spring,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Minny Pops,
Cal Tjader,
Q65,
Susan Cadogan,
Organ,
Cluster,
Suburban Knight,
Derrick Morgan,
Yaz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Infiniti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Toni Rubio,
The Monochrome Set,
Easy Going,
Black Flag,
China Crisis,
Matthew Bourne,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Last Poets,
The Beau Brummels,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Quadrant,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scott Walker,
Pantytec,
Roy Ayers,
Pierre Henry,
The Busters,
Masters at Work,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ultravox,
The United States of America,
The Gladiators,
Maurizio,
The Slits,
Freddie Wadling,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ten City,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Young Rascals,
Charles Mingus,
Pantaleimon,
Q and Not U,
Quando Quango,
Gang Green,
Massinfluence,
Monks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oneida,
Mission of Burma,
Qualms,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.