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 Zambia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Invisible,
Kayak,
Todd Terry,
Inner City,
Tomorrow,
Toni Rubio,
Danielle Patucci,
Vainqueur,
Oblivians,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Normal,
Chrome,
X-102,
Wasted Youth,
The Cramps,
Cluster,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nas,
Lou Christie,
June Days,
The Knickerbockers,
The Neon Judgement,
Ronan,
The Sonics,
Arab on Radar,
Skarface,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sam Rivers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Television Personalities,
Maurizio,
Glenn Branca,
Roger Hodgson,
Bootsy Collins,
Sällskapet,
Kenny Larkin,
Crime,
Arcadia,
Jeru the Damaja,
Index,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crooked Eye,
Nirvana,
Subhumans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tim Buckley,
Liliput,
Soft Machine,
Joe Smooth,
Avey Tare,
Sparks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sight & Sound,
Siglo XX,
June of 44,
Lalann,
Eve St. Jones,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Saccharine Trust,
The Walker Brothers,
Scientists,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.