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 Lebanon and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Connie Case to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
JFA,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fire Engines,
John Foxx,
The Monks,
Magazine,
Bob Dylan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dave Gahan,
Outsiders,
Animal Collective,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Terry Callier,
the Human League,
Black Flag,
Vladislav Delay,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Raincoats,
Pere Ubu,
Minny Pops,
The Trojans,
The Moody Blues,
The Velvet Underground,
Ten City,
Organ,
Matthew Halsall,
Television Personalities,
Porter Ricks,
UT,
Swans,
Nirvana,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Remains,
David Bowie,
Gabor Szabo,
The Walker Brothers,
Ronan,
The Slackers,
Y Pants,
The Slits,
Darondo,
Camberwell Now,
Echospace,
Sister Nancy,
B.T. Express,
Angry Samoans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Banda Bassotti,
Pierre Henry,
The Beau Brummels,
F. McDonald,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Infiniti,
Spandau Ballet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grandmaster Flash,
Young Marble Giants,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.