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 Denmark and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Danielle Patucci to the grime 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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
D'Angelo,
Don Cherry,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Wake,
Patti Smith,
The Gories,
The Offenders,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sam Rivers,
Chris Corsano,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minutemen,
Dual Sessions,
Television,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mars,
Average White Band,
Pagans,
Thee Headcoats,
Eve St. Jones,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wolf Eyes,
Angry Samoans,
Harmonia,
Maleditus Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
a-ha,
Tom Boy,
Radio Birdman,
Quando Quango,
Derrick May,
Smog,
The Move,
Magma,
Main Source,
This Heat,
Marvin Gaye,
The Gladiators,
Dead Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
Mo-Dettes,
Con Funk Shun,
The Saints,
Rakim,
Radiohead,
David Axelrod,
Sällskapet,
E-Dancer,
Blossom Toes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Popol Vuh,
Liliput,
Bush Tetras,
Girls At Our Best!,
Reagan Youth,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.