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 Ecuador and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Delhi.
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 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 Los Fastidios to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
June Days,
the Bar-Kays,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Technova,
Don Cherry,
Crooked Eye,
Babytalk,
Brass Construction,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alton Ellis,
The Fuzztones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nas,
Rapeman,
The Happenings,
Letta Mbulu,
Rotary Connection,
the Human League,
Livin' Joy,
CMW,
Mad Mike,
Deakin,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The New Christs,
The Litter,
Sister Nancy,
The Sound,
Tubeway Army,
Talk Talk,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Real Kids,
Connie Case,
Tears for Fears,
Kerri Chandler,
Guru Guru,
The Electric Prunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arthur Verocai,
Japan,
The Move,
The Tremeloes,
The Doors,
Faust,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scan 7,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
L. Decosne,
Spoonie Gee,
Soft Cell,
Animal Collective,
Joe Smooth,
The Offenders,
The Mojo Men,
Black Flag,
Altered Images,
Fat Boys,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.