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 Iran and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 guitar 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 Boredoms to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Simply Red,
Suicide,
Kurtis Blow,
Mandrill,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deepchord,
Sexual Harrassment,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crooked Eye,
Eddi Front,
Mars,
The Cowsills,
The Fuzztones,
Minny Pops,
Maurizio,
DJ Sneak,
Suburban Knight,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Metal Thangz,
Fear,
Cluster,
Crime,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Busters,
Slave,
Delta 5,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eve St. Jones,
Aloha Tigers,
OOIOO,
Radio Birdman,
Bluetip,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deadbeat,
Faraquet,
Stereo Dub,
Dave Gahan,
Television,
Lee Hazlewood,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Misunderstood,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Saints,
New Order,
The Modern Lovers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pantytec,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry's Kids,
The Seeds,
Roxette,
Al Stewart,
Outsiders,
DJ Style,
Hoover,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.