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 Ethiopia and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Cal Tjader to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Roy Ayers,
Eve St. Jones,
In Retrospect,
Franke,
Tommy Roe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ultimate Spinach,
ABBA,
The Names,
Morten Harket,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Hot Snakes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Drive Like Jehu,
Patti Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Judy Mowatt,
Blake Baxter,
Curtis Mayfield,
June Days,
Alice Coltrane,
Little Man,
The Knickerbockers,
Unrelated Segments,
Davy DMX,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wolf Eyes,
Bobby Byrd,
Mr. Review,
Khruangbin,
Nico,
Warren Ellis,
Bluetip,
Darondo,
JFA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Deakin,
The Kinks,
Sister Nancy,
Kool Moe Dee,
K-Klass,
Easy Going,
Duran Duran,
Delon & Dalcan,
Malaria!,
Cluster,
Half Japanese,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Human League,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
Sonic Youth,
Flipper,
MDC,
Babytalk,
Fad Gadget,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mission of Burma,
The Slits,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.