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 Guinea-Bissau and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Spoonie Gee to the jazz 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
The Monks,
Yaz,
CMW,
Agitation Free,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Saints,
Todd Terry,
Pulsallama,
ABC,
X-101,
Siglo XX,
The Invisible,
Derrick Morgan,
Joey Negro,
Jeff Lynne,
The Grass Roots,
Soul Sonic Force,
Scott Walker,
Gang Green,
The Trojans,
The Fortunes,
Quando Quango,
Janne Schatter,
The Litter,
June of 44,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rufus Thomas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Animal Collective,
Marine Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
Cheater Slicks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Red Krayola,
Patti Smith,
Angry Samoans,
The Music Machine,
Banda Bassotti,
Morten Harket,
Lungfish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Model 500,
Bang On A Can,
Throbbing Gristle,
Von Mondo,
Anakelly,
Quadrant,
Masters at Work,
Nirvana,
Yellowson,
the Swans,
X-Ray Spex,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Sherman,
Section 25,
Fugazi,
The Smoke,
Franke,
Matthew Halsall,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.