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 Rwanda and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wings to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Move. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Metal Thangz,
David Axelrod,
Youth Brigade,
The Misunderstood,
Mission of Burma,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Detroit Cobras,
Monolake,
Scan 7,
Absolute Body Control,
Rites of Spring,
Blake Baxter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ultravox,
The Index,
Don Cherry,
Monks,
Bob Dylan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sixth Finger,
Gang of Four,
The Black Dice,
Anakelly,
The Kinks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Desert Stars,
Pulsallama,
Crooked Eye,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Associates,
Johnny Clarke,
Underground Resistance,
Judy Mowatt,
Godley & Creme,
Gang Green,
Crispian St. Peters,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Funkadelic,
The Saints,
Magazine,
Jawbox,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Leonard Cohen,
Depeche Mode,
The Human League,
Shoche,
The Trojans,
Erykah Badu,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Doors,
Moss Icon,
Yellowson,
Excepter,
EPMD,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sandy B,
D'Angelo,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.