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 Croatia and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pop Group to the disco 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Subhumans,
Theoretical Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Masters at Work,
Janne Schatter,
Maurizio,
Q65,
Junior Murvin,
The Doobie Brothers,
Warsaw,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bad Manners,
ABC,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Visage,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
DJ Sneak,
Wire,
Lee Hazlewood,
Excepter,
Outsiders,
Ludus,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
New Order,
June of 44,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Connie Case,
Little Man,
Ornette Coleman,
The Barracudas,
Pussy Galore,
Ronan,
The Victims,
The Dave Clark Five,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stereo Dub,
Morten Harket,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dorothy Ashby,
These Immortal Souls,
Joey Negro,
Underground Resistance,
The Star Department,
Black Flag,
Nirvana,
Public Enemy,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Womack,
John Lydon,
Brass Construction,
Bob Dylan,
Alice Coltrane,
Au Pairs,
JFA,
Easy Going,
Deadbeat,
Kurtis Blow,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.