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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba 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 The Names to the crunk 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
The Wake,
Pulsallama,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mummies,
Young Marble Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Barry Ungar,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Busters,
Harry Pussy,
Gichy Dan,
Amon Düül,
Tommy Roe,
Pere Ubu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Alton Ellis,
Robert Wyatt,
Skaos,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Max Romeo,
Absolute Body Control,
Girls At Our Best!,
Delta 5,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Whodini,
Kaleidoscope,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barrington Levy,
Zero Boys,
Royal Trux,
Michelle Simonal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Black Flag,
Leonard Cohen,
Stockholm Monsters,
UT,
Kurtis Blow,
Guru Guru,
The Star Department,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Youth Brigade,
Underground Resistance,
Lower 48,
Little Man,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Human League,
Delon & Dalcan,
Scrapy,
AZ,
Ludus,
LL Cool J,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Shoche,
Agitation Free,
Boredoms,
Suicide,
Sparks,
Junior Murvin,
Minutemen,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.