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 Brunei and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Barclay James Harvest to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Harry Pussy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Moon,
The Smiths,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Oblivians,
The Moody Blues,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tears for Fears,
The Five Americans,
The Standells,
Marmalade,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Vogues,
The Young Rascals,
Mad Mike,
Lyres,
Skriet,
John Lydon,
Anthony Braxton,
Freddie Wadling,
Von Mondo,
The Index,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
Visage,
Cheater Slicks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Hot Snakes,
Idris Muhammad,
Crispian St. Peters,
Erykah Badu,
Joy Division,
The Blues Magoos,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Vladislav Delay,
Terry Callier,
Peter & Gordon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Holt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bang On A Can,
Neu!,
The Trojans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Negative Approach,
Drexciya,
Gong,
Wolf Eyes,
Dawn Penn,
Black Sheep,
Cameo,
Black Flag,
Average White Band,
Howard Jones,
Lou Christie,
The Remains,
The Skatalites,
Rotary Connection,
Cecil Taylor,
Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale.
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.