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 Georgia and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ 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 Y Pants to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Slave,
Warsaw,
MDC,
Lucky Dragons,
T.S.O.L.,
Pet Shop Boys,
Yazoo,
Wire,
Agent Orange,
Pierre Henry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythm & Sound,
Glenn Branca,
Young Marble Giants,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ossler,
Scion,
Stetsasonic,
The Grass Roots,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Visage,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Main Source,
Mo-Dettes,
K-Klass,
Connie Case,
The Angels of Light,
B.T. Express,
Soul II Soul,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Association,
Erasure,
Thee Headcoats,
Amon Düül II,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neil Young,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lungfish,
Sound Behaviour,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kas Product,
Bang On A Can,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fela Kuti,
Minutemen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Slick Rick,
Josef K,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Enemy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Doors,
Interpol,
The Neon Judgement,
Symarip,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Maleditus Sound,
Nirvana,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.