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 Namibia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Das Ding to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
kango's stein massive,
The Moody Blues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marc Almond,
Ultimate Spinach,
KRS-One,
Newcleus,
Bang On A Can,
Hardrive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
the Germs,
E-Dancer,
The Mojo Men,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cal Tjader,
The Trojans,
MDC,
One Last Wish,
Tom Boy,
Camouflage,
Monolake,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Offenders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Divine Comedy,
Unrelated Segments,
Franke,
The Residents,
The Angels of Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bill Wells,
Anthony Braxton,
OOIOO,
Grey Daturas,
Archie Shepp,
Jeru the Damaja,
Skarface,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dead C,
The Fortunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bluetip,
Subhumans,
Toni Rubio,
Vladislav Delay,
Mad Mike,
Bob Dylan,
Sonic Youth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bizarre Inc.,
F. McDonald,
Scan 7,
Carl Craig,
Oneida,
Susan Cadogan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.