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 Calgary.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 Todd Terry to the dance 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Suburban Knight,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faraquet,
Organ,
Sällskapet,
The Slits,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
Aswad,
Eddi Front,
a-ha,
La Düsseldorf,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Porter Ricks,
Anakelly,
The Music Machine,
Brothers Johnson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scan 7,
Joe Smooth,
Grey Daturas,
Michelle Simonal,
Smog,
The Star Department,
The Human League,
Black Moon,
Stiv Bators,
Bill Wells,
Gang Starr,
The Cramps,
Sparks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cybotron,
Sound Behaviour,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Offenders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Moebius,
Chris Corsano,
Q and Not U,
Soul II Soul,
The Durutti Column,
James White and The Blacks,
The Moleskins,
The Blues Magoos,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Spoonie Gee,
The Selecter,
Jacques Brel,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
Tomorrow,
Main Source,
Jeff Lynne,
Yaz,
This Heat,
Blossom Toes,
Monks,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.