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 Somalia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 H. Thieme to the electroclash 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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Eric Copeland,
Vainqueur,
Heaven 17,
Skriet,
Sixth Finger,
The Toasters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Roxy Music,
Matthew Halsall,
Todd Terry,
The Cowsills,
Pulsallama,
Youth Brigade,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Smiths,
Boredoms,
Malaria!,
Freddie Wadling,
Colin Newman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Grey Daturas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Kas Product,
the Association,
Massinfluence,
Sonny Sharrock,
Maurizio,
Average White Band,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Second Layer,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Doors,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jeff Mills,
Gil Scott Heron,
Echospace,
Aswad,
Eurythmics,
Tommy Roe,
Amazonics,
Blossom Toes,
Bauhaus,
Bobbi Humphrey,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lucky Dragons,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Byron Stingily,
Connie Case,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sparks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Juan Atkins,
Leonard Cohen,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Victims,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.