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 Micronesia and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Tim Buckley to the disco 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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Curtis Mayfield,
Warsaw,
Roxy Music,
Bizarre Inc.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sex Pistols,
The Dead C,
Franke,
These Immortal Souls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
Minnie Riperton,
Mad Mike,
Letta Mbulu,
Unwound,
The Names,
Wire,
Deadbeat,
The Real Kids,
Magma,
Chris Corsano,
Khruangbin,
Q and Not U,
Minor Threat,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Knickerbockers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Velvet Underground,
Pantytec,
Rapeman,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Bar-Kays,
The Trojans,
Hasil Adkins,
Ice-T,
Essential Logic,
Gong,
Andrew Hill,
Pulsallama,
Wings,
Flamin' Groovies,
Electric Prunes,
Banda Bassotti,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Althea and Donna,
Organ,
Graham Central Station,
Soft Cell,
Nico,
Harry Pussy,
Fugazi,
Procol Harum,
Quantec,
cv313,
Von Mondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gichy Dan,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.