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 Azerbaijan and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Junior Murvin to the rap 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
Don Cherry,
Deakin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bad Manners,
Cymande,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Joe Finger,
Prince Buster,
Nils Olav,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Warren Ellis,
X-Ray Spex,
Spandau Ballet,
Shuggie Otis,
Qualms,
Hashim,
Mandrill,
Television,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Judy Mowatt,
Thee Headcoats,
Symarip,
Roxette,
Sparks,
Peter and Kerry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Harmonia,
Mr. Review,
Rosa Yemen,
Shoche,
Jandek,
Sugar Minott,
The Detroit Cobras,
Susan Cadogan,
Eden Ahbez,
Sight & Sound,
Sällskapet,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Derrick May,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crime,
Idris Muhammad,
Sam Rivers,
Piero Umiliani,
Fluxion,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Fall,
Marshall Jefferson,
K-Klass,
Joensuu 1685,
Funky Four + One,
Pylon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Byrd,
The Offenders,
Can,
Pulsallama,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quadrant,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.