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 Micronesia and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Evens to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Duran Duran record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Count Five,
U.S. Maple,
Toni Rubio,
Grandmaster Flash,
Idris Muhammad,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Star Department,
The Busters,
Au Pairs,
Harry Pussy,
Magazine,
Sandy B,
June of 44,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Von Mondo,
Slick Rick,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cramps,
The Move,
Fat Boys,
Chris & Cosey,
the Germs,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Slits,
Jimmy McGriff,
Letta Mbulu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Music Machine,
Henry Cow,
Visage,
The Mojo Men,
Sunsets and Hearts,
T.S.O.L.,
PIL,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sonic Youth,
Scrapy,
Loose Ends,
Masters at Work,
Cymande,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Quadrant,
The Detroit Cobras,
New York Dolls,
Lucky Dragons,
Steve Hackett,
Eddi Front,
Vladislav Delay,
ABC,
Boz Scaggs,
the Sonics,
Bobby Womack,
Youth Brigade,
Desert Stars,
Kurtis Blow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bob Dylan,
Michelle Simonal,
Blossom Toes,
Angry Samoans,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.