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 Sierra Leone and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joyce Sims to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Rakim,
Sugar Minott,
Au Pairs,
Ituana,
The Techniques,
Frankie Knuckles,
Infiniti,
Bill Wells,
Joey Negro,
The Wake,
Robert Görl,
Wings,
Matthew Bourne,
Bang On A Can,
Boredoms,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Slick Rick,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
8 Eyed Spy,
EPMD,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lou Christie,
R.M.O.,
Judy Mowatt,
Silicon Teens,
Tom Boy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echospace,
Eric Dolphy,
Donny Hathaway,
Fatback Band,
Marc Almond,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Excepter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Shoche,
Country Teasers,
Mr. Review,
Kevin Saunderson,
Yellowson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Model 500,
Spoonie Gee,
Spandau Ballet,
Flipper,
Negative Approach,
The Litter,
Blancmange,
Tropical Tobacco,
Second Layer,
Jawbox,
F. McDonald,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gong,
Pussy Galore,
Anthony Braxton,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barrington Levy,
Lalann,
Subhumans,
DNA,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.