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 Mozambique and from Copenhagen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Stooges to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Todd Rundgren,
Andrew Hill,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang Gang Dance,
Whodini,
Funkadelic,
Ultimate Spinach,
Urselle,
Outsiders,
The Searchers,
Lungfish,
Country Teasers,
David Axelrod,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cal Tjader,
Khruangbin,
Q and Not U,
Bang On A Can,
Moebius,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jeff Mills,
Warsaw,
James White and The Blacks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
B.T. Express,
Donald Byrd,
Symarip,
E-Dancer,
Howard Jones,
ABC,
The Busters,
Arthur Verocai,
Lakeside,
The Sonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Don Cherry,
Sixth Finger,
Boz Scaggs,
The Five Americans,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marmalade,
Anakelly,
These Immortal Souls,
Desert Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Smog,
Morten Harket,
Unrelated Segments,
L. Decosne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Al Stewart,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scan 7,
The Litter,
Tubeway Army,
The Fall,
Black Sheep,
Idris Muhammad,
Shoche,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Real Kids,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.