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 Finland and from Tehran.
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 Johannesburg and Paris.
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 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 Wasted Youth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barrington Levy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Popol Vuh,
Eric Copeland,
Unrelated Segments,
The Busters,
The Associates,
Ralphi Rosario,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Al Stewart,
the Germs,
Minutemen,
Basic Channel,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ice-T,
Sound Behaviour,
Lucky Dragons,
Negative Approach,
The Divine Comedy,
The Saints,
The Velvet Underground,
Minnie Riperton,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cluster,
Japan,
Lou Reed,
Neu!,
F. McDonald,
Goldenarms,
Stetsasonic,
Judy Mowatt,
The Detroit Cobras,
Index,
Toni Rubio,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Masters at Work,
The Cure,
Sixth Finger,
Nas,
Rosa Yemen,
David Axelrod,
The Fugs,
EPMD,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Grass Roots,
The Dirtbombs,
Bronski Beat,
Surgeon,
June of 44,
Derrick May,
Swell Maps,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Guru Guru,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lalann,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.