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 Dominican Republic and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ultra Naté to the rap 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mad Mike,
Icehouse,
Pussy Galore,
Donald Byrd,
Mandrill,
KRS-One,
Warsaw,
Index,
Section 25,
The Doobie Brothers,
Albert Ayler,
Chrome,
Eric B and Rakim,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oblivians,
Matthew Halsall,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare,
Ponytail,
John Coltrane,
Scratch Acid,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kas Product,
Funkadelic,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Zeros,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Depeche Mode,
Fad Gadget,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Yellowson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Adolescents,
Danielle Patucci,
Jerry's Kids,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joy Division,
the Germs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Letta Mbulu,
Lungfish,
The Dead C,
Nik Kershaw,
Bob Dylan,
Subhumans,
The Dirtbombs,
Sarah Menescal,
Lindisfarne,
The Martian,
Deepchord,
Rakim,
Minnie Riperton,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lucky Dragons,
Nas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Youth Brigade,
Franke,
MDC,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.