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 Korea South and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 snare 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 R.M.O. to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Leonard Cohen,
Minny Pops,
Alice Coltrane,
Lou Reed,
Joy Division,
The Monochrome Set,
Radio Birdman,
JFA,
Piero Umiliani,
Susan Cadogan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tim Buckley,
Desert Stars,
Tubeway Army,
Das Ding,
Barbara Tucker,
Letta Mbulu,
Deakin,
Electric Prunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Offenders,
Archie Shepp,
Amazonics,
Skarface,
PIL,
Joensuu 1685,
Kaleidoscope,
Mo-Dettes,
Anthony Braxton,
Fear,
The Fall,
Judy Mowatt,
L. Decosne,
Quadrant,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
Organ,
Babytalk,
Scrapy,
Gang Green,
Sam Rivers,
Quando Quango,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Association,
Agitation Free,
Al Stewart,
Cal Tjader,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oblivians,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Danielle Patucci,
Metal Thangz,
Ice-T,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Porter Ricks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Technova,
UT,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.