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 Somalia and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the güiro 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 Slackers to the dance 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science 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?
Frankie Knuckles,
Sparks,
The Stooges,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Television Personalities,
The Moody Blues,
CMW,
Television,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Robert Hood,
Ronan,
Underground Resistance,
Wasted Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Model 500,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Robert Wyatt,
Magazine,
Tubeway Army,
Isaac Hayes,
Gabor Szabo,
Trumans Water,
Scrapy,
Rotary Connection,
Fear,
Public Enemy,
The Smoke,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Patti Smith,
The Techniques,
Warsaw,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Amon Düül II,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Malaria!,
Pantytec,
Mandrill,
Fatback Band,
Joy Division,
Ponytail,
Idris Muhammad,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Warren Ellis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Organ,
Oblivians,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
La Düsseldorf,
Schoolly D,
Interpol,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Toasters,
H. Thieme,
The Sonics,
The Doors,
Monolake,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.