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 Turkey and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Todd Terry to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Excepter,
Visage,
Alton Ellis,
Soulsonic Force,
Bronski Beat,
Pagans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fat Boys,
Carl Craig,
Marcia Griffiths,
June of 44,
The Fugs,
Robert Görl,
Blossom Toes,
The Vogues,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tommy Roe,
Alphaville,
The Invisible,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lakeside,
Eli Mardock,
James White and The Blacks,
Radio Birdman,
World's Most,
The Smoke,
Matthew Halsall,
The Monochrome Set,
Suicide,
the Fania All-Stars,
Easy Going,
Brass Construction,
The Residents,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Animal Collective,
Sam Rivers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sex Pistols,
R.M.O.,
The Black Dice,
Flash Fearless,
Mark Hollis,
Von Mondo,
Motorama,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang Green,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marvin Gaye,
Wolf Eyes,
Gichy Dan,
Avey Tare,
The Martian,
the Association,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Agitation Free,
Flipper,
Marmalade,
Scion,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.