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 Georgia and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 The Flesh Eaters to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Gabor Szabo,
Ludus,
a-ha,
The Wake,
DJ Sneak,
Mad Mike,
The Names,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Association,
Buzzcocks,
Subhumans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Visage,
Cecil Taylor,
Brick,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tomorrow,
Judy Mowatt,
Youth Brigade,
Severed Heads,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ken Boothe,
Roy Ayers,
Hasil Adkins,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Drexciya,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boz Scaggs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bobby Byrd,
Boredoms,
Sister Nancy,
Janne Schatter,
Ornette Coleman,
Iggy Pop,
Sarah Menescal,
Section 25,
Barry Ungar,
The Gladiators,
Marvin Gaye,
Yaz,
Ronnie Foster,
Derrick May,
Joey Negro,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mo-Dettes,
New Order,
Brand Nubian,
Das Ding,
U.S. Maple,
Sparks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Royal Trux,
Robert Hood,
Talk Talk,
The Divine Comedy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.