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 Tunisia and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Glenn Branca to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sight & Sound,
Wasted Youth,
Ronnie Foster,
Goldenarms,
Skarface,
Davy DMX,
Freddie Wadling,
T.S.O.L.,
Sam Rivers,
Leonard Cohen,
Popol Vuh,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Andrew Hill,
Wire,
Stetsasonic,
Zapp,
Jacques Brel,
The Moleskins,
The Young Rascals,
Kerrie Biddell,
World's Most,
Pylon,
Severed Heads,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Henry Cow,
Soulsonic Force,
The Neon Judgement,
Lungfish,
Slave,
The Cowsills,
Nas,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Robert Hood,
Mr. Review,
Prince Buster,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Bourne,
Nick Fraelich,
Theoretical Girls,
Josef K,
Skaos,
Faust,
One Last Wish,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mantronix,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Excepter,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Malaria!,
Hot Snakes,
Kenny Larkin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Knickerbockers,
Urselle,
Unwound,
Basic Channel,
Tres Demented,
Drexciya,
Motorama,
Circle Jerks,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.