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 Sudan and from Cairo.
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 Glasgow and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kenny Larkin to the grunge 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Whodini,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
H. Thieme,
Outsiders,
Severed Heads,
Donald Byrd,
Main Source,
Circle Jerks,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Pussy Galore,
Cal Tjader,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Negative Approach,
Rapeman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ohio Players,
Roxy Music,
Ten City,
Connie Case,
The Names,
The Invisible,
Idris Muhammad,
Ituana,
Kurtis Blow,
LL Cool J,
Sixth Finger,
The Fugs,
Blancmange,
Supertramp,
Gang Green,
Adolescents,
Scion,
Niagra,
L. Decosne,
Sex Pistols,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Electric Prunes,
Tom Boy,
Ludus,
Graham Central Station,
The Martian,
Stereo Dub,
The Zeros,
Pole,
Ossler,
Royal Trux,
Lucky Dragons,
Boredoms,
The Selecter,
Minor Threat,
Patti Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
Kerrie Biddell,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Banda Bassotti,
Pet Shop Boys,
MDC,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Star Department,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.