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 Lithuania and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Negative Approach to the disco 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Lou Reed,
Donald Byrd,
The Misunderstood,
Liliput,
Jimmy McGriff,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mandrill,
Blake Baxter,
Das Ding,
Soft Machine,
Charles Mingus,
DNA,
Aaron Thompson,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Remains,
Brothers Johnson,
Sister Nancy,
Moby Grape,
UT,
Hardrive,
Mark Hollis,
Little Man,
The Standells,
Make Up,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Moleskins,
ABC,
The Neon Judgement,
This Heat,
Franke,
Yaz,
Loose Ends,
Lightning Bolt,
Black Moon,
Pylon,
Bluetip,
Sarah Menescal,
One Last Wish,
Hoover,
Bob Dylan,
Rotary Connection,
Khruangbin,
The Moody Blues,
Grandmaster Flash,
Scott Walker,
Juan Atkins,
The Young Rascals,
Sound Behaviour,
The Five Americans,
Barclay James Harvest,
PIL,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pole,
Althea and Donna,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Angry Samoans,
Lindisfarne,
Porter Ricks,
The Leaves,
Scientists,
The Gories,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.