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 Singapore and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 The Real Kids to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Joyce Sims,
Faraquet,
Ultravox,
Josef K,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pierre Henry,
Agitation Free,
Fat Boys,
June of 44,
Buzzcocks,
Ituana,
Saccharine Trust,
New York Dolls,
Spandau Ballet,
Yaz,
The Selecter,
Maurizio,
The Red Krayola,
Brand Nubian,
Alton Ellis,
Lightning Bolt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fuzztones,
The Invisible,
James White and The Blacks,
R.M.O.,
Deakin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Don Cherry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Green,
La Düsseldorf,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Sherman,
Desert Stars,
Sam Rivers,
Electric Prunes,
Bang On A Can,
Nation of Ulysses,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mandrill,
Half Japanese,
Funky Four + One,
The Moleskins,
The Pop Group,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gichy Dan,
Can,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
DJ Style,
Khruangbin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tubeway Army,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
Camouflage,
Reagan Youth,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Angels of Light,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.