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 Tuvalu and from Shanghai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Drexciya to the funk 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo 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 a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The New Christs,
The Pretty Things,
Wings,
the Germs,
Sam Rivers,
Roxette,
The Invisible,
Silicon Teens,
Organ,
Hoover,
Shuggie Otis,
Talk Talk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Brothers Johnson,
Robert Hood,
Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Steve Hackett,
Faust,
Joey Negro,
Charles Mingus,
Icehouse,
Wolf Eyes,
Minnie Riperton,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scan 7,
Trumans Water,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harmonia,
The Gories,
Danielle Patucci,
Fatback Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DNA,
Soft Cell,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
cv313,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
Marine Girls,
Minor Threat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cameo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Unrelated Segments,
Rufus Thomas,
Drexciya,
Piero Umiliani,
Basic Channel,
Prince Buster,
10cc,
Desert Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lucky Dragons,
June of 44,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.