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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Chris Corsano to the rap 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tomorrow,
The Smiths,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minutemen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Sherman,
Severed Heads,
Country Joe & The Fish,
James White and The Blacks,
Camouflage,
Funky Four + One,
The Birthday Party,
Beasts of Bourbon,
kango's stein massive,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eden Ahbez,
Boredoms,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jacob Miller,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Curtis Mayfield,
Quadrant,
Franke,
Model 500,
Byron Stingily,
Siglo XX,
Rufus Thomas,
Kenny Larkin,
Delta 5,
Derrick Morgan,
Pere Ubu,
Rites of Spring,
The Velvet Underground,
The Red Krayola,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pole,
Alice Coltrane,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jacques Brel,
Donny Hathaway,
John Cale,
Cal Tjader,
Wolf Eyes,
The Slits,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
EPMD,
Brass Construction,
Faust,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
New Age Steppers,
Basic Channel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.