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 Montenegro and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Drexciya to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Coltrane,
The Velvet Underground,
Maurizio,
John Lydon,
The Slits,
The Count Five,
Pantytec,
Vainqueur,
Faust,
Public Enemy,
New York Dolls,
The Moody Blues,
the Germs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Althea and Donna,
The Wake,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Outsiders,
The Kinks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sun City Girls,
The Neon Judgement,
Tropical Tobacco,
Erasure,
Eddi Front,
Al Stewart,
The Mummies,
Underground Resistance,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gichy Dan,
Pylon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
ABC,
Kevin Saunderson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ronan,
Circle Jerks,
Agitation Free,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Evens,
F. McDonald,
Rhythm & Sound,
Deakin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Judy Mowatt,
Franke,
Ken Boothe,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ultra Naté,
Babytalk,
Massinfluence,
The Busters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brand Nubian,
The Offenders,
Sandy B,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Symarip,
Moebius,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.