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 Armenia and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Metal Thangz to the rock 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Black Pus,
Johnny Clarke,
Donny Hathaway,
Zapp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Angels of Light,
Masters at Work,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Andrew Hill,
Basic Channel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mission of Burma,
One Last Wish,
Minor Threat,
Echospace,
Ralphi Rosario,
Arab on Radar,
cv313,
Young Marble Giants,
The Real Kids,
Heaven 17,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Godley & Creme,
Hardrive,
Nils Olav,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Radiohead,
Minnie Riperton,
Gang Starr,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Germs,
The Moody Blues,
Con Funk Shun,
Davy DMX,
Jeff Lynne,
Aloha Tigers,
Quadrant,
Pantaleimon,
The Index,
Guru Guru,
Jacques Brel,
The Human League,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hot Snakes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Standells,
John Foxx,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eddi Front,
Barbara Tucker,
The New Christs,
Morten Harket,
Dark Day,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.