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 Israel and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric Dolphy to the techno 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Magazine,
Erykah Badu,
The Angels of Light,
These Immortal Souls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Danielle Patucci,
Camberwell Now,
Oneida,
Depeche Mode,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Gladiators,
Inner City,
A Certain Ratio,
The Alarm Clocks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sparks,
Rosa Yemen,
Procol Harum,
The Move,
Marvin Gaye,
Joe Smooth,
the Sonics,
Patti Smith,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Foxx,
Supertramp,
The Real Kids,
The Fuzztones,
Niagra,
Max Romeo,
Maurizio,
Lalann,
Freddie Wadling,
Mission of Burma,
Smog,
Skaos,
Warsaw,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Marshall Jefferson,
Audionom,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Funky Four + One,
Mantronix,
AZ,
Lyres,
The Mojo Men,
Al Stewart,
Grandmaster Flash,
Silicon Teens,
Lower 48,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
DJ Style,
Blake Baxter,
Basic Channel,
Animal Collective,
Alison Limerick,
Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.