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 Kyrgyzstan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 organ 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 Desert Stars to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Ohio Players,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Drexciya,
Saccharine Trust,
Agitation Free,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Derrick Morgan,
Black Moon,
Cal Tjader,
The Cure,
Robert Hood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Con Funk Shun,
Jimmy McGriff,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Das Ding,
The Misunderstood,
Yaz,
Mission of Burma,
Minutemen,
The Star Department,
Index,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Slick Rick,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
Stetsasonic,
Eddi Front,
David Axelrod,
Janne Schatter,
The Neon Judgement,
Can,
Sparks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lalann,
Mantronix,
This Heat,
Jeru the Damaja,
Boredoms,
Brothers Johnson,
Pantaleimon,
Procol Harum,
Main Source,
The Trojans,
Eric Copeland,
Ultimate Spinach,
Matthew Halsall,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Busters,
Livin' Joy,
The Dirtbombs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ludus,
Johnny Clarke,
Los Fastidios,
Oblivians,
Qualms,
Q and Not U,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.