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 Honduras and from Milan.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
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 harpsichord 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 Porter Ricks to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
John Coltrane,
the Human League,
Matthew Halsall,
Fugazi,
Sex Pistols,
Traffic Nightmare,
EPMD,
CMW,
Aaron Thompson,
Soul II Soul,
Rekid,
Magazine,
The Standells,
B.T. Express,
Joyce Sims,
Wasted Youth,
Livin' Joy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cameo,
New York Dolls,
The Monochrome Set,
Connie Case,
Bang On A Can,
Zapp,
Ken Boothe,
Barrington Levy,
Negative Approach,
Spandau Ballet,
The Buckinghams,
Derrick May,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Angels of Light,
The Electric Prunes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rites of Spring,
Aswad,
The Move,
Susan Cadogan,
The Birthday Party,
The Searchers,
Tears for Fears,
The Misunderstood,
Donald Byrd,
Dennis Brown,
Adolescents,
Glenn Branca,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Offenders,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marvin Gaye,
Lee Hazlewood,
Country Teasers,
E-Dancer,
Erykah Badu,
Excepter,
The Grass Roots,
Kurtis Blow,
The Slackers,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.