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 Denmark and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the grunge 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
U.S. Maple,
Rod Modell,
Nas,
Bluetip,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Searchers,
LL Cool J,
Maurizio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Wasted Youth,
Reuben Wilson,
Derrick May,
The Durutti Column,
Average White Band,
Roxy Music,
Aloha Tigers,
Althea and Donna,
China Crisis,
Junior Murvin,
Judy Mowatt,
In Retrospect,
Kerrie Biddell,
10cc,
Don Cherry,
Alphaville,
Niagra,
Crime,
Rekid,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Velvet Underground,
Con Funk Shun,
Crooked Eye,
Television Personalities,
Porter Ricks,
Procol Harum,
Rakim,
the Human League,
Suicide,
Lungfish,
Gichy Dan,
Gabor Szabo,
Pantaleimon,
The Grass Roots,
Todd Terry,
Smog,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Names,
DJ Style,
Hashim,
Black Sheep,
Curtis Mayfield,
Infiniti,
Sällskapet,
Sight & Sound,
Monolake,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gang Green,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bauhaus,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.