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 Angola and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Germs,
James White and The Blacks,
Harry Pussy,
Sun City Girls,
DJ Style,
Icehouse,
The Blackbyrds,
The Flesh Eaters,
Negative Approach,
Bush Tetras,
The Associates,
Popol Vuh,
Matthew Halsall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Star Department,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Royal Trux,
Blake Baxter,
Pierre Henry,
Saccharine Trust,
The Index,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Aswad,
AZ,
kango's stein massive,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Divine Comedy,
Smog,
Derrick May,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Yellowson,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crime,
Throbbing Gristle,
Man Eating Sloth,
Man Parrish,
The Dirtbombs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
A Certain Ratio,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Remains,
Jacques Brel,
Zapp,
Johnny Clarke,
Joe Smooth,
Echospace,
Das Ding,
Supertramp,
Mars,
Fat Boys,
Malaria!,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Black Dice,
Bronski Beat,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.