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 Swaziland 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb 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 Make Up to the rap 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
the Germs,
Avey Tare,
Rapeman,
A Certain Ratio,
The Names,
Camouflage,
Brick,
The Litter,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Wake,
ABC,
The Standells,
Neu!,
Joensuu 1685,
Alton Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
The Offenders,
The Evens,
Pantaleimon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jeff Lynne,
Shuggie Otis,
Hasil Adkins,
Roy Ayers,
The Black Dice,
Can,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Charles Mingus,
Prince Buster,
Supertramp,
Quantec,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Magazine,
Soul II Soul,
Ralphi Rosario,
Qualms,
Spandau Ballet,
La Düsseldorf,
Television,
The Trojans,
Kaleidoscope,
Rosa Yemen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pierre Henry,
Minor Threat,
Byron Stingily,
June of 44,
The Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gun Club,
The Mummies,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Erykah Badu,
The Monks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ponytail,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.