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 East Timor and from Manchester.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Amon Düül II to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
H. Thieme,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ituana,
Patti Smith,
Al Stewart,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wings,
The Sound,
Essential Logic,
David McCallum,
Judy Mowatt,
Y Pants,
Derrick May,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sonny Sharrock,
The American Breed,
Rosa Yemen,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Subhumans,
Connie Case,
Anakelly,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deepchord,
the Germs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Angels of Light,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Minor Threat,
The Human League,
Kas Product,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lyres,
Magma,
The Gladiators,
The Modern Lovers,
Unrelated Segments,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
Amon Düül II,
Donald Byrd,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Q and Not U,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Normal,
Pet Shop Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Vladislav Delay,
The Saints,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nils Olav,
Severed Heads,
Ohio Players,
Youth Brigade,
Supertramp,
Negative Approach,
Altered Images,
Harpers Bizarre,
Von Mondo,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.