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 Micronesia and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 Rakim to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Wally Richardson,
T. Rex,
the Slits,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Visage,
DJ Style,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Shoche,
La Düsseldorf,
The Gories,
The Remains,
Sixth Finger,
Tim Buckley,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Unrelated Segments,
Sonic Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flipper,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Symarip,
Joyce Sims,
Judy Mowatt,
Excepter,
Lakeside,
OOIOO,
Connie Case,
MC5,
Michelle Simonal,
Ponytail,
Television Personalities,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ossler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
8 Eyed Spy,
Whodini,
Au Pairs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ice-T,
Zapp,
Black Flag,
Public Enemy,
Gichy Dan,
FM Einheit,
Los Fastidios,
The Gladiators,
The Invisible,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bob Dylan,
Juan Atkins,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Velvet Underground,
Skarface,
Pierre Henry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Groovy Waters,
Max Romeo,
Make Up,
The Gun Club,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.