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 Haiti and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Donald Fagen 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 New Age Steppers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
The Offenders,
Brand Nubian,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tom Boy,
Fad Gadget,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pantaleimon,
The Red Krayola,
The Music Machine,
Heaven 17,
Hoover,
Camouflage,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mantronix,
EPMD,
Frankie Knuckles,
Underground Resistance,
The Blues Magoos,
Adolescents,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eve St. Jones,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jacques Brel,
John Foxx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fear,
The Associates,
Tres Demented,
The Alarm Clocks,
FM Einheit,
Colin Newman,
The Seeds,
The Moleskins,
Scan 7,
The Neon Judgement,
Agent Orange,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Donald Byrd,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radiohead,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gabor Szabo,
The Sonics,
F. McDonald,
Theoretical Girls,
Slick Rick,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Stereo Dub,
Laurel Aitken,
the Swans,
The Cramps,
Youth Brigade,
Schoolly D,
The Techniques,
The Trojans,
Spoonie Gee,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.