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 Poland and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the crunk 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
The Modern Lovers,
Television Personalities,
Sex Pistols,
The Fire Engines,
Delta 5,
the Soft Cell,
Tres Demented,
Joy Division,
The Searchers,
the Slits,
The Black Dice,
Matthew Halsall,
Blossom Toes,
Robert Wyatt,
Dawn Penn,
Minny Pops,
Quadrant,
Essential Logic,
The Red Krayola,
Dead Boys,
L. Decosne,
Jeff Mills,
Isaac Hayes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dual Sessions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Holt,
The Busters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nirvana,
Moby Grape,
Susan Cadogan,
Tom Boy,
Underground Resistance,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arab on Radar,
Tomorrow,
The Mummies,
The Electric Prunes,
The New Christs,
Reuben Wilson,
Mad Mike,
Faust,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Seeds,
Rosa Yemen,
Rekid,
Gong,
Black Sheep,
The Offenders,
Brick,
Scientists,
Soft Machine,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jawbox,
Absolute Body Control,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.