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 Afghanistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Lou Reed 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 R.M.O. to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dual Sessions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wally Richardson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Maurizio,
Anakelly,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Man Parrish,
Peter and Kerry,
Organ,
Aswad,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Rekid,
Minnie Riperton,
The Martian,
Todd Rundgren,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Star Department,
Arthur Verocai,
This Heat,
Technova,
Sound Behaviour,
The Angels of Light,
the Sonics,
The Pop Group,
Infiniti,
David Bowie,
Marc Almond,
Shuggie Otis,
Bill Wells,
The Saints,
The Buckinghams,
Swell Maps,
Camouflage,
The Fire Engines,
Tears for Fears,
Tubeway Army,
The Pretty Things,
Marvin Gaye,
Cecil Taylor,
Liliput,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Excepter,
Archie Shepp,
Drexciya,
Brand Nubian,
Ken Boothe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hashim,
Severed Heads,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pagans,
The Dead C,
La Düsseldorf,
The Seeds,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Move,
JFA,
Donny Hathaway,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.