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 Gambia and from Delhi.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Harry Pussy to the punk 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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
The Index,
Eddi Front,
Second Layer,
Television,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dead Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ludus,
Trumans Water,
Lower 48,
Darondo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scrapy,
Talk Talk,
Gichy Dan,
Subhumans,
Swans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Chrome,
Tom Boy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Das Ding,
Joy Division,
Gerry Rafferty,
Aswad,
Lakeside,
10cc,
Rapeman,
Slave,
Fear,
Eric Copeland,
Kaleidoscope,
Symarip,
David Axelrod,
MC5,
The Zeros,
Black Bananas,
Vainqueur,
the Normal,
The Young Rascals,
June of 44,
Soul II Soul,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Smiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fugazi,
Lightning Bolt,
The Pretty Things,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Steve Hackett,
the Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Buzzcocks,
Grauzone,
Colin Newman,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.