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 Philippines and from Tehran.
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 Philadelphia and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Judy Mowatt to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Tomorrow,
The Remains,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kayak,
The Stooges,
Los Fastidios,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gastr Del Sol,
Motorama,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Knickerbockers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Make Up,
Glenn Branca,
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Surgeon,
The Grass Roots,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sister Nancy,
The Black Dice,
The Mojo Men,
Ohio Players,
The Barracudas,
Bootsy Collins,
The Cowsills,
Alice Coltrane,
Reagan Youth,
Fatback Band,
Lou Christie,
Moby Grape,
Guru Guru,
The Pop Group,
David Bowie,
Cybotron,
The Beau Brummels,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Basic Channel,
Eve St. Jones,
Dark Day,
The Young Rascals,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crash Course in Science,
Deadbeat,
Roxette,
The Martian,
Albert Ayler,
Alton Ellis,
Country Teasers,
Terry Callier,
Lalann,
Vainqueur,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dawn Penn,
The Monks,
Anthony Braxton,
Sarah Menescal,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.