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 Mozambique and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Essential Logic to the punk 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
U.S. Maple,
Mr. Review,
The Gun Club,
Schoolly D,
Animal Collective,
Funkadelic,
Darondo,
Morten Harket,
Das Ding,
Ken Boothe,
Camouflage,
Oblivians,
Spoonie Gee,
Boz Scaggs,
Grauzone,
Bootsy Collins,
Hoover,
Adolescents,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rufus Thomas,
Young Marble Giants,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Grass Roots,
Magma,
Harpers Bizarre,
Johnny Osbourne,
Royal Trux,
Magazine,
R.M.O.,
Black Pus,
Chris Corsano,
Radio Birdman,
Panda Bear,
The Human League,
Slave,
The Music Machine,
Soft Machine,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Move,
The Misunderstood,
The Last Poets,
Hot Snakes,
Quantec,
Hasil Adkins,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ohio Players,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harry Pussy,
Rapeman,
The Star Department,
Jimmy McGriff,
Johnny Clarke,
Deadbeat,
Archie Shepp,
The Divine Comedy,
Roxy Music,
Peter and Kerry,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Isaac Hayes,
Sun City Girls,
Monolake,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.