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 Cambodia and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pylon to the techno 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Eve St. Jones,
Funkadelic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Slick Rick,
Josef K,
Cecil Taylor,
Pylon,
Dennis Brown,
Black Moon,
Crispian St. Peters,
Donny Hathaway,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cymande,
Swans,
Lalann,
The Fire Engines,
Guru Guru,
Schoolly D,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Brand Nubian,
Circle Jerks,
Saccharine Trust,
Public Enemy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nick Fraelich,
Eurythmics,
the Human League,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Pus,
Fear,
The Kinks,
Loose Ends,
DJ Sneak,
Scientists,
Marine Girls,
Popol Vuh,
Rites of Spring,
the Soft Cell,
La Düsseldorf,
The Cramps,
The Monks,
Au Pairs,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Banda Bassotti,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Chris & Cosey,
Gabor Szabo,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marc Almond,
Q65,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ken Boothe,
Camouflage,
Terry Callier,
Iggy Pop,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.