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 Kazakhstan and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Unwound,
Deakin,
Underground Resistance,
Drexciya,
Bush Tetras,
Archie Shepp,
Ohio Players,
The Victims,
Cluster,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mission of Burma,
The Litter,
Neu!,
10cc,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jawbox,
the Germs,
The Leaves,
Pagans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Wire,
Malaria!,
Scrapy,
The Saints,
Wolf Eyes,
Hardrive,
Moss Icon,
The Monks,
Funky Four + One,
Altered Images,
Can,
Roy Ayers,
Yaz,
The Raincoats,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eddi Front,
Bob Dylan,
Amazonics,
The Skatalites,
Marcia Griffiths,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marine Girls,
Peter & Gordon,
Severed Heads,
Television,
Marshall Jefferson,
David Bowie,
The Cure,
The Sound,
Black Bananas,
Donald Byrd,
Monolake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Pretty Things,
The Black Dice,
Lightning Bolt,
Section 25,
The Doors,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.