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 Swaziland and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Eli Mardock,
Eve St. Jones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sex Pistols,
Unrelated Segments,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monolake,
Josef K,
Vainqueur,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fugs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
James White and The Blacks,
Ten City,
Derrick May,
Lakeside,
Barry Ungar,
Tomorrow,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Newcleus,
L. Decosne,
The Fall,
New Order,
Henry Cow,
48th St. Collective,
Agitation Free,
The Buckinghams,
Franke,
Wasted Youth,
the Soft Cell,
Byron Stingily,
Ronan,
Eric Dolphy,
Youth Brigade,
Scientists,
Unwound,
Tres Demented,
Black Sheep,
Spoonie Gee,
The Busters,
Main Source,
Robert Wyatt,
These Immortal Souls,
Shoche,
The Knickerbockers,
Public Enemy,
Interpol,
Roy Ayers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Alarm Clocks,
Colin Newman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Little Man,
Nas,
Terry Callier,
Lightning Bolt,
The Dirtbombs,
Monks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Whodini,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.