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 Kyrgyzstan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 CMW to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Black Dice,
Sonic Youth,
Ornette Coleman,
The Sound,
Maurizio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Section 25,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bobbi Humphrey,
June of 44,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jesper Dahlback,
Glenn Branca,
The Knickerbockers,
Stereo Dub,
Derrick Morgan,
LL Cool J,
Prince Buster,
The Last Poets,
The Trojans,
Loose Ends,
Freddie Wadling,
Grey Daturas,
Monks,
The Busters,
Ohio Players,
The Gap Band,
Brick,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fat Boys,
Sällskapet,
a-ha,
Black Pus,
Faraquet,
Sonny Sharrock,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sam Rivers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mars,
Scrapy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
Whodini,
The Count Five,
China Crisis,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Bananas,
Joe Smooth,
Barrington Levy,
The Move,
Stiv Bators,
Lyres,
The Mojo Men,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.