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 New Zealand and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Vainqueur to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Rapeman,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang Green,
Cymande,
B.T. Express,
Lungfish,
Reagan Youth,
X-102,
Suicide,
The Kinks,
The Fall,
Brothers Johnson,
Hardrive,
The Dirtbombs,
Porter Ricks,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Stetsasonic,
The Offenders,
Wally Richardson,
Half Japanese,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quando Quango,
Bluetip,
The Monks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Von Mondo,
Mark Hollis,
Pantaleimon,
DJ Sneak,
Sam Rivers,
Prince Buster,
Stiv Bators,
A Certain Ratio,
Jesper Dahlback,
Reuben Wilson,
Little Man,
Harry Pussy,
the Germs,
Q and Not U,
Inner City,
Livin' Joy,
Flash Fearless,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Main Source,
The Saints,
Das Ding,
EPMD,
Q65,
Erasure,
Slave,
Scratch Acid,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cecil Taylor,
Crash Course in Science,
Sugar Minott,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.