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 Estonia and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the guitar 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 Cheater Slicks to the electroclash 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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Dawn Penn,
Marine Girls,
Zapp,
Aloha Tigers,
James White and The Blacks,
Oneida,
The Fugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mandrill,
Toni Rubio,
Yazoo,
Amon Düül,
Cecil Taylor,
Lyres,
Tres Demented,
Jacob Miller,
One Last Wish,
Funkadelic,
Livin' Joy,
Leonard Cohen,
Shoche,
Eden Ahbez,
the Germs,
Sam Rivers,
Ronnie Foster,
Howard Jones,
Morten Harket,
Rod Modell,
The Cure,
Rotary Connection,
Sound Behaviour,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Alison Limerick,
48th St. Collective,
Sex Pistols,
Terrestrial Tones,
Prince Buster,
Cymande,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Alton Ellis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gong,
the Normal,
Davy DMX,
U.S. Maple,
Vladislav Delay,
In Retrospect,
Smog,
The Golliwogs,
John Cale,
Second Layer,
Bobby Byrd,
Silicon Teens,
The Cramps,
Andrew Hill,
Hasil Adkins,
Metal Thangz,
The Monks,
Simply Red,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.