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 Bangladesh and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Sonic Youth to the crunk 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Don Cherry,
Flipper,
The Five Americans,
Y Pants,
Minny Pops,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ituana,
Simply Red,
Yazoo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lakeside,
Steve Hackett,
Cecil Taylor,
Todd Rundgren,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Slick Rick,
Joyce Sims,
Fear,
the Bar-Kays,
Janne Schatter,
F. McDonald,
Mad Mike,
Pagans,
Electric Prunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
Surgeon,
David Bowie,
Ronnie Foster,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra,
Nils Olav,
R.M.O.,
The Dead C,
La Düsseldorf,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Accadde A,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Shuggie Otis,
LL Cool J,
Godley & Creme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Real Kids,
Alison Limerick,
John Coltrane,
Clear Light,
The Misunderstood,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Names,
Khruangbin,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hoover,
Moss Icon,
KRS-One,
Matthew Bourne,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.