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 Austria and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Angry Samoans to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arthur Verocai record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dead Boys,
Slick Rick,
Susan Cadogan,
The Saints,
Barbara Tucker,
Deakin,
Lindisfarne,
Derrick Morgan,
Maurizio,
The New Christs,
Soulsonic Force,
Pierre Henry,
Yazoo,
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
Aswad,
Moss Icon,
Au Pairs,
Zero Boys,
Thee Headcoats,
Pussy Galore,
The Fortunes,
Althea and Donna,
The Doors,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Desert Stars,
Erasure,
The Martian,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Evens,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cecil Taylor,
The Selecter,
The Techniques,
Hashim,
The Velvet Underground,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eddi Front,
Matthew Halsall,
T. Rex,
B.T. Express,
The Blues Magoos,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Golliwogs,
The Pretty Things,
Brand Nubian,
The Flesh Eaters,
Yusef Lateef,
Q and Not U,
Fatback Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Alice Coltrane,
Amazonics,
the Normal,
Johnny Osbourne,
Guru Guru,
Glenn Branca,
Zapp,
Depeche Mode,
The Slits,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.