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 Dominican Republic and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Ornette Coleman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Unwound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Spandau Ballet,
The Doors,
The Electric Prunes,
The Invisible,
Tropical Tobacco,
Don Cherry,
Skaos,
Bush Tetras,
Morten Harket,
Crooked Eye,
Marmalade,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott Heron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Names,
Aloha Tigers,
Letta Mbulu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Standells,
Nils Olav,
Terry Callier,
Agitation Free,
Reagan Youth,
OOIOO,
Anthony Braxton,
Scrapy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
KRS-One,
Television Personalities,
Bad Manners,
Index,
Arab on Radar,
Echospace,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Flipper,
AZ,
Wally Richardson,
Black Sheep,
Young Marble Giants,
The Pretty Things,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jacob Miller,
Minny Pops,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Knickerbockers,
Gabor Szabo,
Quando Quango,
Sound Behaviour,
Jesper Dahlback,
Livin' Joy,
Eli Mardock,
Jawbox,
Black Flag,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.