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 Syria and from Lyon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 Kas Product to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
T. Rex,
Maurizio,
The Evens,
The Index,
The Mojo Men,
Sandy B,
Hot Snakes,
the Association,
Country Teasers,
Marc Almond,
Crispy Ambulance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Dirtbombs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Motorama,
Kenny Larkin,
Moebius,
Dual Sessions,
Underground Resistance,
Roy Ayers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Infiniti,
Terry Callier,
Patti Smith,
Thee Headcoats,
Marine Girls,
Derrick May,
Slave,
Swell Maps,
Soul Sonic Force,
June of 44,
Big Daddy Kane,
Main Source,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Five Americans,
Barbara Tucker,
Cameo,
Basic Channel,
48th St. Collective,
Joyce Sims,
The Cowsills,
Derrick Morgan,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Blues Magoos,
The Doobie Brothers,
Laurel Aitken,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gichy Dan,
The Real Kids,
Susan Cadogan,
Lindisfarne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Masters at Work,
Monks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Durutti Column,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.