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 Nigeria and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mr. Review to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Pantaleimon,
Agent Orange,
Monks,
The Smoke,
Tubeway Army,
Ronnie Foster,
The J.B.'s,
Fatback Band,
Brothers Johnson,
The Invisible,
The Tremeloes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cymande,
Steve Hackett,
Minny Pops,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Piero Umiliani,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pulsallama,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sam Rivers,
X-101,
The Wake,
The Skatalites,
Joe Smooth,
Derrick May,
The United States of America,
Avey Tare,
Kool Moe Dee,
Morten Harket,
Rakim,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jeff Lynne,
The Moleskins,
the Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wolf Eyes,
Josef K,
Derrick Morgan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vainqueur,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
John Coltrane,
Camouflage,
Black Sheep,
DJ Style,
Lee Hazlewood,
Moebius,
Rod Modell,
Excepter,
Gang Green,
Subhumans,
June Days,
The Slits,
Magazine,
Minor Threat,
Parry Music,
Radio Birdman,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.