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 Nepal and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 chamberlin 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 The Mummies to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Isaac Hayes,
Gabor Szabo,
X-102,
Visage,
Bauhaus,
The Skatalites,
The Misunderstood,
Drexciya,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Agent Orange,
Marcia Griffiths,
New Age Steppers,
Essential Logic,
Model 500,
Bill Wells,
Guru Guru,
the Germs,
The Victims,
Icehouse,
Mandrill,
Glenn Branca,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aswad,
Ice-T,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joey Negro,
Animal Collective,
The Modern Lovers,
X-Ray Spex,
The Buckinghams,
Cheater Slicks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Slick Rick,
Kenny Larkin,
Scrapy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
L. Decosne,
Albert Ayler,
Au Pairs,
Prince Buster,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eurythmics,
Angry Samoans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The J.B.'s,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jandek,
Ituana,
Lou Reed,
Tommy Roe,
Interpol,
The Dead C,
Minny Pops,
Joy Division,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.