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 Panama and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Quadrant to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bang On A Can,
Y Pants,
Jerry's Kids,
The Red Krayola,
A Flock of Seagulls,
ABC,
Bobby Sherman,
Procol Harum,
The Stooges,
Brass Construction,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fuzztones,
Crooked Eye,
Buzzcocks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-Ray Spex,
The Electric Prunes,
Sugar Minott,
Television,
Marvin Gaye,
Animal Collective,
Pere Ubu,
The Zeros,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Second Layer,
Tubeway Army,
The Grass Roots,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hasil Adkins,
Parry Music,
The Human League,
Letta Mbulu,
Wire,
Roger Hodgson,
Jandek,
Archie Shepp,
Nils Olav,
Judy Mowatt,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minny Pops,
Fat Boys,
AZ,
Bush Tetras,
Maurizio,
B.T. Express,
Index,
Ice-T,
Althea and Donna,
Black Bananas,
Gang Starr,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Chris Corsano,
Fear,
Slave,
The Beau Brummels,
Livin' Joy,
The Star Department,
Mars,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.