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 Guinea and from Houston.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 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 The Standells to the dance 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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Monolake,
The Toasters,
Josef K,
Oneida,
Pierre Henry,
X-Ray Spex,
Mo-Dettes,
the Soft Cell,
One Last Wish,
Lungfish,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ludus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
Visage,
Lalann,
James White and The Blacks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Juan Atkins,
June Days,
Pere Ubu,
The Busters,
This Heat,
The Raincoats,
Black Sheep,
Nirvana,
Michelle Simonal,
Roxette,
Slave,
Crooked Eye,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eli Mardock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scion,
Lakeside,
The Doors,
Patti Smith,
Joy Division,
Deepchord,
Nas,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Can,
Drexciya,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Audionom,
Malaria!,
Ornette Coleman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Q65,
Massinfluence,
Sonic Youth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Deakin,
Dawn Penn,
World's Most,
Charles Mingus,
Buzzcocks,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Womack,
Make Up,
Warsaw,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.