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 Cuba and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the rap 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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Boz Scaggs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
CMW,
The Count Five,
Kool Moe Dee,
Technova,
Stereo Dub,
Siglo XX,
The Star Department,
Man Parrish,
Urselle,
Joyce Sims,
Rites of Spring,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tommy Roe,
Rufus Thomas,
Crooked Eye,
H. Thieme,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
FM Einheit,
Aaron Thompson,
Nick Fraelich,
Lungfish,
John Coltrane,
Scott Walker,
JFA,
The Searchers,
Ronnie Foster,
Ralphi Rosario,
Reagan Youth,
Ohio Players,
Radiohead,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Christie,
Hardrive,
Q and Not U,
The Cramps,
The New Christs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Harry Pussy,
Mission of Burma,
Terrestrial Tones,
Index,
Buzzcocks,
Mantronix,
Harpers Bizarre,
Maurizio,
Neil Young,
a-ha,
the Human League,
Magazine,
Blossom Toes,
Motorama,
Masters at Work,
Stetsasonic,
D'Angelo,
Deakin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Janne Schatter,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.