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 Colombia and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Fortunes to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Public Enemy,
Johnny Clarke,
These Immortal Souls,
Marvin Gaye,
Big Daddy Kane,
Surgeon,
DNA,
Unrelated Segments,
Derrick May,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Gladiators,
Lungfish,
Mo-Dettes,
Mr. Review,
Dark Day,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crooked Eye,
Avey Tare,
Mark Hollis,
MDC,
Scientists,
Cal Tjader,
The Flesh Eaters,
Deadbeat,
Alice Coltrane,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ralphi Rosario,
Panda Bear,
Anthony Braxton,
The Saints,
New Age Steppers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Livin' Joy,
Boz Scaggs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lyres,
Eddi Front,
Minnie Riperton,
Hoover,
Make Up,
Hot Snakes,
Mary Jane Girls,
FM Einheit,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Animal Collective,
The Buckinghams,
Hasil Adkins,
The Associates,
Danielle Patucci,
the Human League,
Tim Buckley,
Sixth Finger,
John Holt,
Pere Ubu,
The Kinks,
Swell Maps,
Zero Boys,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.