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 Chile and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sparks to the techno 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sex Pistols,
the Soft Cell,
The American Breed,
the Sonics,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
F. McDonald,
Tom Boy,
The Misunderstood,
Nils Olav,
Sun City Girls,
Urselle,
Brothers Johnson,
Ultravox,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rekid,
The Victims,
The Blues Magoos,
The Young Rascals,
Rosa Yemen,
Swans,
The Wake,
New Order,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Swell Maps,
Average White Band,
Joey Negro,
Marvin Gaye,
the Normal,
The Motions,
The J.B.'s,
Soft Cell,
Warsaw,
Black Bananas,
Model 500,
Ice-T,
The Red Krayola,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Kinks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marmalade,
Anthony Braxton,
Sandy B,
Scott Walker,
Reagan Youth,
Grauzone,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Donald Byrd,
Derrick Morgan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bluetip,
Faraquet,
Second Layer,
James White and The Blacks,
Wire,
John Cale,
the Swans,
Ituana,
Toni Rubio,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.