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 Solomon Islands 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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Move to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
Mo-Dettes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Terry Callier,
Masters at Work,
CMW,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nils Olav,
D'Angelo,
The Trojans,
R.M.O.,
Icehouse,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roxette,
Suicide,
Desert Stars,
Moebius,
Erykah Badu,
David Axelrod,
Essential Logic,
Nik Kershaw,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smiths,
One Last Wish,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Curtis Mayfield,
E-Dancer,
Bush Tetras,
Can,
Anthony Braxton,
Maleditus Sound,
the Bar-Kays,
Drexciya,
The Mummies,
Simply Red,
Fort Wilson Riot,
DJ Sneak,
Roger Hodgson,
Electric Prunes,
The Happenings,
Monks,
X-Ray Spex,
Swans,
the Germs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marine Girls,
Kayak,
Japan,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Holt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crime,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Yusef Lateef,
The Doors,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.