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 Dominica and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 sitar 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 Gastr Del Sol to the electroclash 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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sister Nancy,
Faraquet,
MC5,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Lydon,
Spoonie Gee,
Eurythmics,
the Normal,
Brothers Johnson,
Joyce Sims,
Connie Case,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Thompson Twins,
The Modern Lovers,
Sparks,
Maurizio,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Reed,
Janne Schatter,
Bill Near,
DNA,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Green,
The Victims,
The Monochrome Set,
Boredoms,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultravox,
Bobby Byrd,
B.T. Express,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Con Funk Shun,
Cheater Slicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
Nation of Ulysses,
Babytalk,
Soft Machine,
Excepter,
Scion,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
UT,
Desert Stars,
Grandmaster Flash,
Supertramp,
The American Breed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cal Tjader,
Erykah Badu,
Darondo,
Roxette,
Alison Limerick,
Nik Kershaw,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.