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 Malawi and from Cairo.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 arpeggiator 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 Lucky Dragons to the funk 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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
The Young Rascals,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dirtbombs,
The Toasters,
Cluster,
T. Rex,
Man Parrish,
MC5,
Eden Ahbez,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Maleditus Sound,
Bauhaus,
The Trojans,
Eve St. Jones,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rakim,
Derrick May,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Durutti Column,
The Pretty Things,
Talk Talk,
Reagan Youth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Germs,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Stooges,
Desert Stars,
Nas,
Nirvana,
Mad Mike,
Yusef Lateef,
Al Stewart,
The United States of America,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Infiniti,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Dual Sessions,
China Crisis,
Public Enemy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pole,
The Saints,
Hoover,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ornette Coleman,
The Misunderstood,
E-Dancer,
The Alarm Clocks,
AZ,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Simply Red,
Iggy Pop,
Faust,
Kurtis Blow,
Ultra Naté,
Deakin,
Ice-T,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.