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 Ivory Coast and from Copenhagen.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joey Negro to the electroclash 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Real Kids,
D'Angelo,
Robert Hood,
Minny Pops,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mandrill,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Sherman,
Fear,
a-ha,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
U.S. Maple,
Severed Heads,
Marine Girls,
CMW,
B.T. Express,
the Sonics,
Pagans,
Lindisfarne,
Radiohead,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ornette Coleman,
Ohio Players,
The New Christs,
Iggy Pop,
Gang Starr,
Eric Copeland,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nick Fraelich,
F. McDonald,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bobby Byrd,
Suburban Knight,
Brothers Johnson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rotary Connection,
OOIOO,
Excepter,
Infiniti,
Banda Bassotti,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scion,
Marc Almond,
The Searchers,
Joensuu 1685,
Lee Hazlewood,
Drive Like Jehu,
ABC,
Joy Division,
Radio Birdman,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Jeru the Damaja,
The American Breed,
Stereo Dub,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.