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 Iran and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tim Buckley to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Suburban Knight,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fall,
Minny Pops,
Funkadelic,
Bill Wells,
Kurtis Blow,
Bronski Beat,
Robert Görl,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Mills,
Soft Cell,
The Music Machine,
The Last Poets,
Warsaw,
Albert Ayler,
Can,
Brothers Johnson,
Aaron Thompson,
EPMD,
Zapp,
Jeff Lynne,
Wolf Eyes,
F. McDonald,
Jacques Brel,
Tomorrow,
Amazonics,
Alphaville,
Rekid,
Marine Girls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Swans,
The Victims,
The Residents,
Jimmy McGriff,
Excepter,
The Cure,
The New Christs,
Franke,
Pantaleimon,
The Leaves,
The Barracudas,
The Sound,
The Five Americans,
Echospace,
Morten Harket,
Carl Craig,
Ornette Coleman,
Wire,
Hot Snakes,
Colin Newman,
Rites of Spring,
Sight & Sound,
Ice-T,
Sound Behaviour,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
U.S. Maple,
Tubeway Army,
Boredoms,
Shoche,
Youth Brigade,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.