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 Bahrain and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the techno 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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Kas Product tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
The Saints,
Aloha Tigers,
The Gun Club,
The Cramps,
Davy DMX,
Moebius,
Ultra Naté,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Newcleus,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Knickerbockers,
Max Romeo,
China Crisis,
David McCallum,
Rapeman,
Excepter,
Donald Byrd,
The Moody Blues,
R.M.O.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Schoolly D,
Derrick Morgan,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Skatalites,
Rekid,
Duran Duran,
The Names,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Sheep,
Bush Tetras,
The Blues Magoos,
Marc Almond,
The Leaves,
PIL,
The Misunderstood,
Michelle Simonal,
cv313,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dual Sessions,
The Trojans,
Cal Tjader,
Suburban Knight,
The Smoke,
Interpol,
Gang Starr,
Bang On A Can,
Jandek,
New York Dolls,
DNA,
David Axelrod,
The Gap Band,
Severed Heads,
Letta Mbulu,
Minny Pops,
Icehouse,
Dawn Penn,
Peter and Kerry,
The Sonics,
Girls At Our Best!,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.