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 Greece and from Portland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe 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 The Smiths to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Faust,
The Five Americans,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Lydon,
The Cure,
Dark Day,
John Cale,
Morten Harket,
R.M.O.,
The Wake,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Blackbyrds,
Kurtis Blow,
Brand Nubian,
Lalann,
Camouflage,
T. Rex,
Maleditus Sound,
Fela Kuti,
Eden Ahbez,
Bobby Sherman,
Moby Grape,
Absolute Body Control,
Rosa Yemen,
Boz Scaggs,
Easy Going,
Henry Cow,
Jeff Mills,
X-102,
The Slits,
the Slits,
The Pop Group,
Bauhaus,
Audionom,
Johnny Clarke,
The Velvet Underground,
The Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Sun City Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Guru Guru,
Country Teasers,
Archie Shepp,
Ice-T,
D'Angelo,
Susan Cadogan,
Youth Brigade,
The Litter,
Goldenarms,
Pantaleimon,
Scrapy,
Todd Terry,
Ossler,
Terry Callier,
the Normal,
Big Daddy Kane,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Move,
Warren Ellis,
Kerri Chandler,
The Sonics,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.