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 Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet 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 Rakim to the disco 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Anthony Braxton,
the Fania All-Stars,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
Spandau Ballet,
Tears for Fears,
JFA,
Pierre Henry,
Yusef Lateef,
kango's stein massive,
ABC,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lucky Dragons,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
New Age Steppers,
Black Sheep,
Delta 5,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Main Source,
Hot Snakes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Magazine,
Shoche,
Lou Reed,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The American Breed,
Sparks,
Brand Nubian,
Frankie Knuckles,
Donny Hathaway,
Prince Buster,
Jandek,
K-Klass,
Symarip,
Stetsasonic,
La Düsseldorf,
New York Dolls,
Eden Ahbez,
Aural Exciters,
Sixth Finger,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Connie Case,
Cal Tjader,
The Index,
The Victims,
Radio Birdman,
Patti Smith,
Nils Olav,
MDC,
Bluetip,
Public Enemy,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Smoke,
Judy Mowatt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wasted Youth,
Gang Starr,
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.