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 Russia and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator 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 The Pop Group to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mo-Dettes,
The Count Five,
Eric Copeland,
The Star Department,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Leonard Cohen,
Sex Pistols,
Smog,
T.S.O.L.,
Eden Ahbez,
Suicide,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
Anakelly,
X-101,
Fela Kuti,
Rod Modell,
Amon Düül,
Gong,
Underground Resistance,
Black Pus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Absolute Body Control,
Drexciya,
Rekid,
Sparks,
Alice Coltrane,
Josef K,
the Bar-Kays,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Grauzone,
The Motions,
Silicon Teens,
Shuggie Otis,
The Evens,
Reuben Wilson,
F. McDonald,
Mission of Burma,
The Doobie Brothers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Popol Vuh,
Michelle Simonal,
Faust,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Human League,
Janne Schatter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Swans,
Radiohead,
Easy Going,
JFA,
Sam Rivers,
John Holt,
John Foxx,
Niagra,
Bobby Byrd,
Yellowson,
Hoover,
Prince Buster,
The Five Americans,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.