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 China and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Michael McDonald 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 Swans to the rap 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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Charles Mingus,
David McCallum,
Scrapy,
The Kinks,
Bobby Sherman,
John Coltrane,
Monks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The American Breed,
Black Sheep,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Prince Buster,
Shoche,
Flipper,
Moebius,
Marine Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Japan,
DNA,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Flamin' Groovies,
Soulsonic Force,
OOIOO,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gun Club,
The Raincoats,
Agent Orange,
Fluxion,
Moby Grape,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gang of Four,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kurtis Blow,
The Grass Roots,
Tom Boy,
Country Teasers,
Lyres,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Star Department,
Dead Boys,
Glenn Branca,
Tears for Fears,
Smog,
The Offenders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Von Mondo,
Television Personalities,
Amazonics,
Lucky Dragons,
Bang On A Can,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.