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 Suriname and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
The Blackbyrds,
Howard Jones,
L. Decosne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tommy Roe,
Sister Nancy,
Franke,
Silicon Teens,
Don Cherry,
Blake Baxter,
June of 44,
Juan Atkins,
Robert Wyatt,
Spandau Ballet,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Porter Ricks,
The Standells,
Kool Moe Dee,
Organ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Loose Ends,
Isaac Hayes,
Ornette Coleman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Electric Prunes,
Ultravox,
Bobby Byrd,
The Trojans,
The Martian,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The United States of America,
Bob Dylan,
Black Flag,
Pole,
The Mojo Men,
Rakim,
Aural Exciters,
Make Up,
Siglo XX,
Shoche,
Sandy B,
Masters at Work,
Pierre Henry,
Joensuu 1685,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Vogues,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
DJ Style,
Connie Case,
The Human League,
The Buckinghams,
Average White Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.