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 Liechtenstein and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bobby Byrd to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rites of Spring,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Birthday Party,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kerri Chandler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Juan Atkins,
Franke,
David Bowie,
Tim Buckley,
Suicide,
The Stooges,
The Cowsills,
Can,
Anakelly,
Roxy Music,
the Bar-Kays,
Altered Images,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sixth Finger,
Schoolly D,
Stetsasonic,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Modern Lovers,
X-Ray Spex,
Leonard Cohen,
Siglo XX,
Animal Collective,
Kenny Larkin,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Fire Engines,
Eurythmics,
Colin Newman,
Lyres,
Lungfish,
L. Decosne,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oneida,
The Tremeloes,
The Selecter,
Spandau Ballet,
The Real Kids,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Kinks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wolf Eyes,
Angry Samoans,
The Toasters,
Rod Modell,
Smog,
Carl Craig,
Bootsy Collins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.