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 Syria and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 808 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 The Offenders to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Association,
the Soft Cell,
Bobby Byrd,
The Move,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultimate Spinach,
Oneida,
Quantec,
Ituana,
Nico,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The J.B.'s,
K-Klass,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Selecter,
Mad Mike,
Gabor Szabo,
Joey Negro,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
JFA,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Electric Prunes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grauzone,
Michelle Simonal,
Crispy Ambulance,
Second Layer,
Swell Maps,
The Fuzztones,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Reed,
KRS-One,
Mars,
Camberwell Now,
PIL,
Sexual Harrassment,
EPMD,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dark Day,
New Age Steppers,
Procol Harum,
Lindisfarne,
Drive Like Jehu,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
The Buckinghams,
Kayak,
The Busters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Gun Club,
Los Fastidios,
The Smiths,
The Fugs,
Brothers Johnson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Skatalites,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cheater Slicks,
Ponytail,
Audionom,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.