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 Guatemala 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the rock 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Tres Demented,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Swell Maps,
The Star Department,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Cecil Taylor,
Crispian St. Peters,
One Last Wish,
Zapp,
The Neon Judgement,
Loose Ends,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Sherman,
Malaria!,
Ponytail,
Rites of Spring,
John Foxx,
Ultimate Spinach,
Shoche,
Pere Ubu,
Glenn Branca,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Residents,
The New Christs,
The Martian,
Moss Icon,
Cluster,
Hasil Adkins,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mummies,
Average White Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Happenings,
Minutemen,
Khruangbin,
Man Parrish,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Don Cherry,
Main Source,
Siglo XX,
B.T. Express,
The Fall,
Roxy Music,
Brothers Johnson,
Index,
World's Most,
Sexual Harrassment,
Masters at Work,
Q and Not U,
Heaven 17,
Animal Collective,
In Retrospect,
Massinfluence,
Depeche Mode,
Inner City,
Fela Kuti,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sun Ra,
Quadrant,
Tubeway Army,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.