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 Kosovo and from Philadelphia.
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 London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the disco 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Bob Dylan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deakin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Talk Talk,
Tubeway Army,
The Grass Roots,
Janne Schatter,
Sparks,
Black Bananas,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ronnie Foster,
LL Cool J,
Mo-Dettes,
Zapp,
Can,
Camberwell Now,
Magazine,
Darondo,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Cowsills,
The Smiths,
ABC,
Mr. Review,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
Vainqueur,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Nirvana,
Amon Düül II,
Royal Trux,
Khruangbin,
Terry Callier,
Cybotron,
Cal Tjader,
Saccharine Trust,
Stereo Dub,
La Düsseldorf,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Derrick May,
Hasil Adkins,
Gang Green,
Accadde A,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Goldenarms,
Roxette,
T. Rex,
kango's stein massive,
Rhythm & Sound,
Colin Newman,
Crime,
Derrick Morgan,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeff Mills,
Ultravox,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.