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 Turkmenistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
London Community Gospel Choir,
New York Dolls,
David Axelrod,
The Real Kids,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
the Germs,
Gang Gang Dance,
48th St. Collective,
Steve Hackett,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mission of Burma,
Can,
Soul II Soul,
Marmalade,
Tubeway Army,
Alice Coltrane,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Neu!,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soul Sonic Force,
New Age Steppers,
Eurythmics,
The Cowsills,
Fad Gadget,
Zapp,
The Litter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Slits,
Groovy Waters,
Y Pants,
World's Most,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra,
Q65,
Oblivians,
The Doors,
The Martian,
The Knickerbockers,
Stiv Bators,
The Busters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bob Dylan,
Echospace,
The Gories,
Rapeman,
The Vogues,
Index,
Kas Product,
Man Eating Sloth,
Shuggie Otis,
the Sonics,
Alphaville,
EPMD,
cv313,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Names,
Livin' Joy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.