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 Korea South and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Con Funk Shun,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brothers Johnson,
Connie Case,
Unwound,
Unrelated Segments,
John Cale,
Joy Division,
Silicon Teens,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Five Americans,
the Bar-Kays,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Harry Pussy,
Tommy Roe,
Newcleus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mr. Review,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Q65,
Ultimate Spinach,
Heaven 17,
Bill Near,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
JFA,
The Grass Roots,
Kenny Larkin,
Slick Rick,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Offenders,
The Kinks,
The Stooges,
Audionom,
Chrome,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Visage,
Lyres,
Funky Four + One,
Alison Limerick,
The Moody Blues,
The Sound,
Ralphi Rosario,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kas Product,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Crooked Eye,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Avey Tare,
Marshall Jefferson,
Moby Grape,
Minny Pops,
Nils Olav,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
New Order,
Eli Mardock,
The Walker Brothers,
DJ Style,
ABBA,
Byron Stingily,
The Electric Prunes,
Chris & Cosey,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.