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 Estonia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the funk 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
kango's stein massive,
Fat Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Motorama,
Prince Buster,
KRS-One,
Easy Going,
Depeche Mode,
Mantronix,
Eden Ahbez,
Scratch Acid,
Electric Prunes,
Andrew Hill,
Max Romeo,
Blossom Toes,
Fugazi,
Amazonics,
Magma,
a-ha,
Reuben Wilson,
Malaria!,
The Gun Club,
Goldenarms,
Symarip,
June of 44,
Audionom,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Doobie Brothers,
Quantec,
Eric Copeland,
Loose Ends,
The Names,
Lakeside,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
John Coltrane,
Ronan,
DNA,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Absolute Body Control,
Harpers Bizarre,
Chrome,
Jerry's Kids,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultra Naté,
Ronnie Foster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
cv313,
Minor Threat,
Rapeman,
Clear Light,
Rotary Connection,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Brass Construction,
Kurtis Blow,
Television Personalities,
Popol Vuh,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
U.S. Maple,
Blake Baxter,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.