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 Djibouti and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 The Fortunes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Rufus Thomas,
Josef K,
David McCallum,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crime,
Althea and Donna,
Camouflage,
Kurtis Blow,
Crispian St. Peters,
Banda Bassotti,
The Misunderstood,
Oneida,
Brothers Johnson,
Blancmange,
Ossler,
The Trojans,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jimmy McGriff,
The United States of America,
Vainqueur,
China Crisis,
Amon Düül II,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moleskins,
Grey Daturas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Funkadelic,
Idris Muhammad,
Nirvana,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pylon,
Japan,
Marvin Gaye,
Neil Young,
DJ Style,
Smog,
Fat Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Reagan Youth,
a-ha,
Magazine,
New York Dolls,
PIL,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Masters at Work,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
The Durutti Column,
The Music Machine,
Fluxion,
Robert Hood,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Byron Stingily,
Black Moon,
Soft Machine,
Bauhaus,
Outsiders,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.