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 Nicaragua and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the funk 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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Rekid,
Lou Christie,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeff Mills,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Sarah Menescal,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Starr,
Lower 48,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Panda Bear,
The Leaves,
Josef K,
The Gap Band,
Audionom,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lou Reed,
Buzzcocks,
Trumans Water,
Fear,
F. McDonald,
Lyres,
Toni Rubio,
the Germs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
A Certain Ratio,
Fela Kuti,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Misunderstood,
Joey Negro,
Michelle Simonal,
The Barracudas,
Tommy Roe,
Flipper,
John Foxx,
Kerri Chandler,
Slave,
Soft Machine,
The Raincoats,
X-Ray Spex,
Alice Coltrane,
Mission of Burma,
The Golliwogs,
Derrick Morgan,
World's Most,
Malaria!,
Zapp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bizarre Inc.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Bar-Kays,
Das Ding,
The Zeros,
The Moleskins,
The Evens,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.