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 Ireland and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 David Bowie 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 The Angels of Light to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Subhumans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mo-Dettes,
Suburban Knight,
Mr. Review,
Infiniti,
Arab on Radar,
Bauhaus,
The Real Kids,
Oneida,
Zapp,
Anthony Braxton,
Qualms,
Mandrill,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Delon & Dalcan,
Saccharine Trust,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
DJ Style,
Alton Ellis,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Piero Umiliani,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Selecter,
Ronan,
L. Decosne,
Unrelated Segments,
Mark Hollis,
Minnie Riperton,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hardrive,
Warsaw,
Althea and Donna,
Brick,
Gerry Rafferty,
Porter Ricks,
Magazine,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Germs,
Rhythm & Sound,
Black Bananas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
U.S. Maple,
Con Funk Shun,
Aloha Tigers,
X-102,
Unwound,
The Moody Blues,
The Gories,
The Seeds,
Popol Vuh,
Jeff Mills,
Kevin Saunderson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Visage,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.