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 Bahrain and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sonic Youth to the punk 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sandy B,
Danielle Patucci,
Bush Tetras,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Max Romeo,
Patti Smith,
Boogie Down Productions,
Slick Rick,
Zero Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Howard Jones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mars,
OOIOO,
Man Parrish,
Von Mondo,
Delon & Dalcan,
June Days,
Little Man,
Kas Product,
The Fall,
Charles Mingus,
The Real Kids,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ronan,
The Invisible,
Boz Scaggs,
Niagra,
The Techniques,
Whodini,
U.S. Maple,
Bill Near,
Surgeon,
Sight & Sound,
H. Thieme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Suicide,
The Moleskins,
E-Dancer,
Young Marble Giants,
the Germs,
Severed Heads,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Eric B and Rakim,
Althea and Donna,
The Birthday Party,
Marshall Jefferson,
Underground Resistance,
Khruangbin,
New Age Steppers,
Mission of Burma,
ABC,
Yusef Lateef,
Laurel Aitken,
The Victims,
Eric Dolphy,
Nik Kershaw,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.