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 Kenya and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fania All-Stars to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lightning Bolt,
Nils Olav,
OOIOO,
AZ,
Stetsasonic,
Interpol,
the Swans,
The Fuzztones,
Model 500,
Das Ding,
The Gun Club,
The Slackers,
The Tremeloes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bad Manners,
Robert Görl,
The Fall,
Rufus Thomas,
Anthony Braxton,
Amon Düül II,
Don Cherry,
John Holt,
Inner City,
The Evens,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jawbox,
CMW,
Rapeman,
Cecil Taylor,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Monochrome Set,
Charles Mingus,
The Trojans,
Minny Pops,
Kas Product,
Ludus,
T. Rex,
The Cure,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Massinfluence,
L. Decosne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Television Personalities,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sällskapet,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
F. McDonald,
The Gap Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Golliwogs,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Last Poets,
Warren Ellis,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Severed Heads,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.