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 Senegal and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe 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 Todd Rundgren to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Radio Birdman,
Hardrive,
Pagans,
Animal Collective,
Trumans Water,
Brothers Johnson,
Shoche,
OOIOO,
Clear Light,
Silicon Teens,
UT,
Blancmange,
the Slits,
Josef K,
Lou Reed,
Monks,
Lungfish,
Duran Duran,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Moody Blues,
Fugazi,
Scrapy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bang On A Can,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Byrd,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ludus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Basic Channel,
Peter & Gordon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Johnny Osbourne,
F. McDonald,
Liliput,
The Star Department,
T.S.O.L.,
Laurel Aitken,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeff Mills,
Joyce Sims,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Misunderstood,
Essential Logic,
Suicide,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
R.M.O.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barry Ungar,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sun Ra,
Crash Course in Science,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Order,
The Birthday Party,
Amon Düül,
Eve St. Jones,
Monolake,
Moebius,
Kerrie Biddell,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.