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 Uzbekistan and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the jazz 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Chrome,
Swell Maps,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Five Americans,
The Dead C,
Bill Wells,
Smog,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Drexciya,
Accadde A,
The Mummies,
Porter Ricks,
Connie Case,
Sixth Finger,
The Invisible,
Nas,
Harmonia,
Aural Exciters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Minor Threat,
Can,
Urselle,
The Trojans,
Minutemen,
Sällskapet,
Lalann,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sound Behaviour,
Althea and Donna,
Kenny Larkin,
The Fugs,
Scientists,
Nico,
Pylon,
Angry Samoans,
Deepchord,
The Moleskins,
Skriet,
Y Pants,
Scan 7,
Little Man,
Grey Daturas,
Roy Ayers,
Q and Not U,
The Moody Blues,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
Suburban Knight,
Pierre Henry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Adolescents,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Buckinghams,
World's Most,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Boz Scaggs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Index,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.