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 Liberia and from Philadelphia.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet 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 Silicon Teens to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Groovy Waters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Television,
Lindisfarne,
New Age Steppers,
Cybotron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Porter Ricks,
Erykah Badu,
Rakim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Angels of Light,
X-101,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
June of 44,
Spoonie Gee,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sparks,
Sun Ra,
Crime,
Lyres,
Japan,
Wolf Eyes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Simply Red,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Terry Callier,
Zapp,
48th St. Collective,
Loose Ends,
Public Enemy,
Charles Mingus,
Joe Finger,
Faraquet,
Tears for Fears,
Eden Ahbez,
The Doors,
Drexciya,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dennis Brown,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Germs,
Susan Cadogan,
A Certain Ratio,
Joyce Sims,
Hot Snakes,
Joy Division,
Ituana,
James White and The Blacks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Happenings,
The Associates,
Eurythmics,
The American Breed,
Donny Hathaway,
Drive Like Jehu,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gories,
Pantytec,
Ronan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Art Ensemble Of Chicago.
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.