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 Kazakhstan and from Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer 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 Animal Collective to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Divine Comedy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
The Dirtbombs,
The Young Rascals,
Donald Byrd,
Don Cherry,
Wolf Eyes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pussy Galore,
Kas Product,
X-101,
Guru Guru,
Dual Sessions,
Smog,
Eli Mardock,
Barbara Tucker,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Barracudas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kerrie Biddell,
Juan Atkins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Cure,
Thee Headcoats,
X-102,
Model 500,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
U.S. Maple,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Selecter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rotary Connection,
Blossom Toes,
Rapeman,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
Skarface,
Clear Light,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Connie Case,
Bobby Womack,
The Alarm Clocks,
In Retrospect,
Rekid,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
David Bowie,
Fela Kuti,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Joey Negro,
Drexciya,
Severed Heads,
Tubeway Army,
The Fortunes,
Masters at Work,
Amon Düül,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.