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 Uzbekistan and from London.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the crunk 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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Alphaville,
Suburban Knight,
L. Decosne,
Wolf Eyes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Severed Heads,
Glenn Branca,
Gabor Szabo,
Danielle Patucci,
Moebius,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gun Club,
Popol Vuh,
June Days,
Eli Mardock,
Funky Four + One,
Jacques Brel,
Groovy Waters,
Public Enemy,
Cal Tjader,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Saccharine Trust,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fugs,
Scientists,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
The Dirtbombs,
Buzzcocks,
The Black Dice,
Freddie Wadling,
The Velvet Underground,
The Selecter,
LL Cool J,
Unwound,
The Smiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tubeway Army,
Ice-T,
Niagra,
Scrapy,
Skaos,
Camouflage,
Bang On A Can,
the Germs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bill Near,
Jeff Mills,
X-102,
Aural Exciters,
Suicide,
Rod Modell,
The Vogues,
the Association,
The Barracudas,
Mr. Review,
Dead Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Sheep,
Reagan Youth,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.