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 Zambia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator 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 Yaz to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Whodini,
Infiniti,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang of Four,
Toni Rubio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Goldenarms,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Alison Limerick,
Organ,
The United States of America,
ABBA,
Agent Orange,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Human League,
Maurizio,
Lower 48,
the Bar-Kays,
These Immortal Souls,
Don Cherry,
The Electric Prunes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Todd Rundgren,
Make Up,
the Human League,
Oblivians,
The Names,
Brass Construction,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Anakelly,
Pantaleimon,
Bush Tetras,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Detroit Cobras,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Qualms,
The Alarm Clocks,
Donny Hathaway,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cymande,
UT,
The Pretty Things,
Colin Newman,
Roy Ayers,
Sparks,
Ludus,
Icehouse,
Crooked Eye,
Dave Gahan,
Camouflage,
The Monks,
Ultra Naté,
Quantec,
Silicon Teens,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.