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 Lesotho and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jeff Mills to the crunk 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Susan Cadogan,
Gang Starr,
The Slackers,
Von Mondo,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Durutti Column,
The Doors,
Gong,
The Martian,
Gang of Four,
CMW,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Henry Cow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blackbyrds,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Young Rascals,
The Walker Brothers,
Scrapy,
X-102,
Half Japanese,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
New York Dolls,
The Beau Brummels,
Ralphi Rosario,
Moby Grape,
Cheater Slicks,
Sight & Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
Eve St. Jones,
Rufus Thomas,
Chris Corsano,
L. Decosne,
The Moody Blues,
Index,
Maleditus Sound,
Faraquet,
Ituana,
Nas,
Kaleidoscope,
The Techniques,
Skaos,
Yellowson,
Mars,
Cal Tjader,
Todd Rundgren,
The Mummies,
Ohio Players,
Lungfish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Sherman,
Khruangbin,
Josef K,
Tomorrow,
Metal Thangz,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pere Ubu,
Model 500,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.