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 Niger and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cal Tjader to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Quando Quango,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
T. Rex,
The Moleskins,
Archie Shepp,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kas Product,
the Soft Cell,
The Beau Brummels,
John Cale,
Suburban Knight,
The Invisible,
Inner City,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Trojans,
Lightning Bolt,
Aural Exciters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Minor Threat,
Porter Ricks,
Black Sheep,
Pole,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Motions,
Liliput,
Michelle Simonal,
Derrick May,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roy Ayers,
Main Source,
Joyce Sims,
The Fall,
UT,
Desert Stars,
Deakin,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tubeway Army,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jawbox,
Electric Prunes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Warren Ellis,
Junior Murvin,
Ice-T,
Scan 7,
Accadde A,
The Slackers,
Man Parrish,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Sherman,
Colin Newman,
Skaos,
Bill Near,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Move,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel.
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.