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 Italy and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin 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 Pierre Henry to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ludus,
Deepchord,
Terry Callier,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minor Threat,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pantaleimon,
The Slits,
Animal Collective,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Minnie Riperton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ornette Coleman,
Monks,
Pantytec,
U.S. Maple,
Au Pairs,
Schoolly D,
Sonic Youth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yaz,
Iggy Pop,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Womack,
Sight & Sound,
Avey Tare,
The American Breed,
Sex Pistols,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
Bush Tetras,
F. McDonald,
The Martian,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jandek,
Flash Fearless,
Angry Samoans,
Circle Jerks,
Lindisfarne,
Rites of Spring,
The Evens,
Echospace,
Warren Ellis,
Subhumans,
The Star Department,
Yazoo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scientists,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
This Heat,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Q and Not U,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rakim,
Simply Red,
Ultimate Spinach,
Yellowson,
the Human League,
Glenn Branca,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.