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 Uganda and from New York.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Michael McDonald 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 Pole to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Groovy Waters,
Crooked Eye,
The Associates,
Ultimate Spinach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joyce Sims,
Bill Near,
Eden Ahbez,
Ornette Coleman,
Spoonie Gee,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeff Mills,
Cybotron,
Nirvana,
Fela Kuti,
D'Angelo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cymande,
The Five Americans,
Joensuu 1685,
This Heat,
The Modern Lovers,
Simply Red,
Pussy Galore,
Terrestrial Tones,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang of Four,
Lower 48,
Maurizio,
Suicide,
Hoover,
Cal Tjader,
Mission of Burma,
Surgeon,
The Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stiv Bators,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Normal,
Eve St. Jones,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultravox,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
Make Up,
Avey Tare,
Kerrie Biddell,
Freddie Wadling,
In Retrospect,
The Doobie Brothers,
David Axelrod,
Toni Rubio,
Roy Ayers,
Jerry's Kids,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pulsallama,
Roxette,
Deakin,
Glenn Branca,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Byrd,
Leonard Cohen,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.