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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Edmonton.
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 spring reverb 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 Eric Copeland to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul II Soul,
The Skatalites,
Liliput,
Suburban Knight,
Skarface,
The Saints,
Steve Hackett,
Harpers Bizarre,
Idris Muhammad,
Schoolly D,
Agent Orange,
Connie Case,
Ken Boothe,
Pylon,
John Cale,
The Misunderstood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Selecter,
Robert Hood,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hoover,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Young Rascals,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aswad,
Suicide,
Terry Callier,
Lalann,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brass Construction,
Lyres,
Urselle,
The Residents,
Popol Vuh,
The Martian,
Camouflage,
Radio Birdman,
Skaos,
The Dave Clark Five,
Little Man,
Underground Resistance,
B.T. Express,
Crash Course in Science,
Brick,
Model 500,
Graham Central Station,
June of 44,
Stockholm Monsters,
Technova,
Desert Stars,
Archie Shepp,
The Raincoats,
David Axelrod,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Eric B and Rakim,
X-Ray Spex,
Scrapy,
The Gories,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.