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 Ecuador and from Manila.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 L. Decosne to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Brick,
Johnny Clarke,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sam Rivers,
R.M.O.,
Niagra,
Donny Hathaway,
Stiv Bators,
Sister Nancy,
Khruangbin,
Reuben Wilson,
Colin Newman,
Little Man,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marc Almond,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Boz Scaggs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Los Fastidios,
Youth Brigade,
Shoche,
Pierre Henry,
Althea and Donna,
Groovy Waters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Desert Stars,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minutemen,
The Saints,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ossler,
X-Ray Spex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Buckinghams,
Funkadelic,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Kinks,
Suburban Knight,
Maurizio,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Qualms,
Trumans Water,
Television Personalities,
The Young Rascals,
Section 25,
Aswad,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Can,
Unrelated Segments,
Aloha Tigers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crime,
Fear,
Hashim,
Monks,
Yusef Lateef,
Tubeway Army,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.