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 Norway and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moby Grape to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Minny Pops,
Arab on Radar,
Terrestrial Tones,
Unwound,
Drexciya,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ken Boothe,
The Names,
Boz Scaggs,
Nirvana,
Smog,
Goldenarms,
Cluster,
Lyres,
The Cure,
Deakin,
Leonard Cohen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kaleidoscope,
John Holt,
Toni Rubio,
Groovy Waters,
Steve Hackett,
The Searchers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
The Smoke,
Tubeway Army,
The Sound,
Barbara Tucker,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Gap Band,
Archie Shepp,
Sandy B,
The Cowsills,
Adolescents,
The Associates,
Mantronix,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Deepchord,
the Normal,
The Skatalites,
The Residents,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Index,
Letta Mbulu,
The Techniques,
Funkadelic,
Slick Rick,
Silicon Teens,
Siglo XX,
Ossler,
Tim Buckley,
Shuggie Otis,
48th St. Collective,
The Star Department,
Delta 5,
Robert Hood,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.