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 Papua New Guinea and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba 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 Jacques Brel to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Boredoms,
Black Sheep,
Newcleus,
The Smiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Danielle Patucci,
Idris Muhammad,
Liliput,
The Detroit Cobras,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Parry Music,
Brand Nubian,
The Young Rascals,
Black Flag,
Cal Tjader,
Nirvana,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scientists,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Skatalites,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cluster,
Quando Quango,
Don Cherry,
Swell Maps,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Trojans,
Fear,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Fall,
E-Dancer,
Tubeway Army,
Drexciya,
Delon & Dalcan,
Accadde A,
FM Einheit,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Standells,
Janne Schatter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Womack,
Q65,
Arab on Radar,
Half Japanese,
Robert Hood,
Masters at Work,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bob Dylan,
Television,
Con Funk Shun,
Thompson Twins,
Smog,
Jacques Brel,
The Offenders,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sex Pistols,
Ken Boothe,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.