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 China and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the rock 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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Soft Machine,
The Gories,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marc Almond,
Ituana,
Thompson Twins,
Crash Course in Science,
Gastr Del Sol,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bang On A Can,
Deadbeat,
Barrington Levy,
Excepter,
Moebius,
Popol Vuh,
Pierre Henry,
Byron Stingily,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Dead C,
Minutemen,
Sister Nancy,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Skatalites,
Bootsy Collins,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Warsaw,
Gang Gang Dance,
Althea and Donna,
Wings,
The American Breed,
Max Romeo,
Fatback Band,
Monks,
Whodini,
The New Christs,
CMW,
Maurizio,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Avey Tare,
Livin' Joy,
Parry Music,
Half Japanese,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rakim,
Scratch Acid,
Joyce Sims,
Circle Jerks,
The Vogues,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Residents,
Qualms,
China Crisis,
Sight & Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fortunes,
Adolescents,
Lower 48,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.