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 Palau and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Arthur Verocai to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
Josef K,
The Grass Roots,
Soft Cell,
the Sonics,
The Searchers,
Derrick May,
Crooked Eye,
OOIOO,
Jimmy McGriff,
Visage,
Ituana,
Nico,
Derrick Morgan,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Last Poets,
Radiohead,
Aswad,
The Wake,
The Remains,
Laurel Aitken,
Fela Kuti,
Davy DMX,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
D'Angelo,
X-102,
The American Breed,
Eli Mardock,
Nick Fraelich,
Audionom,
Con Funk Shun,
The Seeds,
Jacques Brel,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Evens,
The Fall,
The Skatalites,
Peter and Kerry,
Letta Mbulu,
Crash Course in Science,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bauhaus,
The Names,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Circle Jerks,
Siglo XX,
James White and The Blacks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Hashim,
Brothers Johnson,
La Düsseldorf,
Funky Four + One,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aloha Tigers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Severed Heads,
Black Pus,
Make Up,
The Mummies,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.