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 Jordan and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare 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 The American Breed to the disco 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Terry Callier,
New York Dolls,
Nirvana,
Qualms,
Bauhaus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Skaos,
Alphaville,
The Dave Clark Five,
Zapp,
Young Marble Giants,
Oblivians,
Wings,
Oneida,
The Moleskins,
The Kinks,
Motorama,
Babytalk,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Last Poets,
Sexual Harrassment,
Maleditus Sound,
Warren Ellis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
KRS-One,
Spandau Ballet,
A Certain Ratio,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minutemen,
Jeff Mills,
Y Pants,
The Moody Blues,
John Foxx,
Mad Mike,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Slits,
Barrington Levy,
Rapeman,
Rekid,
Lungfish,
Trumans Water,
The Durutti Column,
Mark Hollis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Gap Band,
Tomorrow,
Letta Mbulu,
Absolute Body Control,
The Buckinghams,
The Divine Comedy,
Susan Cadogan,
Lyres,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Cure,
Robert Wyatt,
Thee Headcoats,
Lucky Dragons,
Joensuu 1685,
Gang Green,
Mo-Dettes,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.