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 Bhutan and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Skriet to the grunge 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
The Gladiators,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rakim,
Tom Boy,
Roxette,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jeru the Damaja,
This Heat,
June of 44,
Arcadia,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Infiniti,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Sound,
Lyres,
Sparks,
Circle Jerks,
Rufus Thomas,
The Barracudas,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Massinfluence,
The Raincoats,
Dennis Brown,
The Modern Lovers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eric Copeland,
The Knickerbockers,
The Angels of Light,
Metal Thangz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Josef K,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Soft Cell,
Wally Richardson,
Con Funk Shun,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sight & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Sexual Harrassment,
Desert Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Near,
The Selecter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Charles Mingus,
Jeff Mills,
Nation of Ulysses,
Deadbeat,
Black Pus,
The Mojo Men,
Pharoah Sanders,
Goldenarms,
Johnny Clarke,
Vainqueur,
Crash Course in Science,
The Smiths,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.