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 Guinea and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
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 güiro 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 Parry Music to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pantytec,
Flamin' Groovies,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joey Negro,
Khruangbin,
Suicide,
Spandau Ballet,
Godley & Creme,
Black Bananas,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Evens,
The Dead C,
the Swans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Flag,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Surgeon,
Grey Daturas,
The Index,
Young Marble Giants,
Juan Atkins,
John Foxx,
Audionom,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Toasters,
Franke,
The Electric Prunes,
The Black Dice,
The J.B.'s,
Amon Düül,
The Cure,
F. McDonald,
Althea and Donna,
Wolf Eyes,
The Beau Brummels,
Archie Shepp,
Essential Logic,
Bill Wells,
Ronan,
Porter Ricks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Television Personalities,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dennis Brown,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lindisfarne,
The New Christs,
Toni Rubio,
DJ Sneak,
Liliput,
Bang On A Can,
The Selecter,
Pet Shop Boys,
Swans,
Ultra Naté,
Nils Olav,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.