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 Honduras and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Names to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Index,
The Fire Engines,
Panda Bear,
Sugar Minott,
Motorama,
Moebius,
Judy Mowatt,
Grey Daturas,
Neu!,
The Gun Club,
Kaleidoscope,
Al Stewart,
Skriet,
Dual Sessions,
Gang Starr,
The Names,
Magma,
Royal Trux,
Grauzone,
The Raincoats,
Cymande,
The Fall,
Johnny Osbourne,
Deakin,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Dead C,
The Selecter,
Khruangbin,
The Red Krayola,
Ossler,
Pere Ubu,
Matthew Halsall,
48th St. Collective,
JFA,
John Holt,
H. Thieme,
Yazoo,
Scrapy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Don Cherry,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ponytail,
Connie Case,
The Pretty Things,
Au Pairs,
Spandau Ballet,
Agitation Free,
Derrick May,
Eric B and Rakim,
Howard Jones,
Gong,
Quantec,
Sister Nancy,
The Fuzztones,
Rites of Spring,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Severed Heads,
Rekid,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Yaz,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.