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 Albania and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer 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 Suicide to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiohead record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
ABC,
Delta 5,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Johnny Clarke,
Andrew Hill,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fear,
Suburban Knight,
Faraquet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scrapy,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Velvet Underground,
Slave,
Brand Nubian,
Eli Mardock,
Nik Kershaw,
James White and The Blacks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Technova,
Blake Baxter,
Judy Mowatt,
Basic Channel,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Stooges,
Althea and Donna,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lebanon Hanover,
Zero Boys,
Bob Dylan,
Suicide,
Crash Course in Science,
Metal Thangz,
Vainqueur,
The Knickerbockers,
the Normal,
The Saints,
Neil Young,
In Retrospect,
The Gap Band,
Bill Wells,
One Last Wish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Henry Cow,
The Selecter,
F. McDonald,
David Bowie,
Pulsallama,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.