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 Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cecil Taylor to the grunge 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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
The Slits,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ronan,
Gong,
Kayak,
Dennis Brown,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Junior Murvin,
Pulsallama,
PIL,
Letta Mbulu,
The Cowsills,
Saccharine Trust,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobby Womack,
The Alarm Clocks,
Adolescents,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sam Rivers,
Dual Sessions,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Halsall,
Cal Tjader,
Intrusion,
Flipper,
The Litter,
Pantytec,
Marine Girls,
Gichy Dan,
Bluetip,
Vainqueur,
Unrelated Segments,
Soulsonic Force,
The Neon Judgement,
Drive Like Jehu,
Connie Case,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boredoms,
Patti Smith,
Jeff Mills,
Excepter,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eric Dolphy,
Warsaw,
Joyce Sims,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Max Romeo,
Sun Ra,
Lower 48,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cluster,
John Lydon,
Technova,
Matthew Bourne,
Amon Düül II,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Remains,
The Names,
Wolf Eyes,
Prince Buster,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.