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 Malaysia and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fatback Band to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Index,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Kinks,
Glenn Branca,
Camberwell Now,
Lindisfarne,
Donald Byrd,
Echospace,
Maleditus Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Royal Trux,
Quando Quango,
Soft Cell,
F. McDonald,
Kerrie Biddell,
Banda Bassotti,
Inner City,
The Leaves,
Pussy Galore,
The Toasters,
Bob Dylan,
John Coltrane,
Sun Ra,
Ornette Coleman,
Youth Brigade,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fad Gadget,
Rosa Yemen,
The Invisible,
Fat Boys,
Darondo,
Con Funk Shun,
Bang On A Can,
Aaron Thompson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lalann,
Crooked Eye,
Blossom Toes,
Oneida,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Saccharine Trust,
The Flesh Eaters,
The American Breed,
Sällskapet,
Delon & Dalcan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Panda Bear,
The Red Krayola,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Christie,
Michelle Simonal,
Supertramp,
Pere Ubu,
Lalo Schifrin,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.