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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Woodstock.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Altered Images to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
The Tremeloes,
The Cramps,
Bizarre Inc.,
Easy Going,
Hoover,
Section 25,
Arthur Verocai,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Stiv Bators,
June of 44,
8 Eyed Spy,
Peter and Kerry,
DNA,
X-102,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chrome,
The Star Department,
Rufus Thomas,
Albert Ayler,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Main Source,
Deadbeat,
These Immortal Souls,
Maurizio,
Metal Thangz,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
U.S. Maple,
Jawbox,
Wolf Eyes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barclay James Harvest,
Intrusion,
Dawn Penn,
Kerri Chandler,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Funky Four + One,
Masters at Work,
The Cure,
The Fall,
Lightning Bolt,
Massinfluence,
Andrew Hill,
Sarah Menescal,
a-ha,
Fatback Band,
Newcleus,
Gang Green,
Agent Orange,
Heaven 17,
Siglo XX,
Circle Jerks,
MC5,
The Fire Engines,
The Beau Brummels,
Yazoo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stetsasonic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.