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 Micronesia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the techno 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Pharoah Sanders,
Max Romeo,
Letta Mbulu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Warsaw,
Mo-Dettes,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
Lyres,
Parry Music,
Mantronix,
Soul II Soul,
Brick,
Wings,
Connie Case,
Agitation Free,
Unwound,
Ronan,
Spoonie Gee,
The Music Machine,
Arthur Verocai,
The Angels of Light,
Scratch Acid,
Ice-T,
Barry Ungar,
Audionom,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Starr,
Khruangbin,
Delta 5,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aural Exciters,
The J.B.'s,
The Monochrome Set,
Hasil Adkins,
Model 500,
Deadbeat,
Colin Newman,
DJ Style,
Rapeman,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nico,
Maleditus Sound,
Sam Rivers,
Kerri Chandler,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Todd Terry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gang of Four,
Lakeside,
Black Flag,
Skarface,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Soft Cell,
Basic Channel,
Arcadia,
Thompson Twins,
Nils Olav,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.