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 Egypt and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Sight & Sound to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Fuzztones,
Absolute Body Control,
The Leaves,
Niagra,
The Black Dice,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Whodini,
Ludus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bill Near,
Lyres,
Anthony Braxton,
Outsiders,
The Durutti Column,
Graham Central Station,
Mars,
Adolescents,
Scientists,
Hoover,
Saccharine Trust,
Rites of Spring,
The Monks,
Marc Almond,
The Smoke,
Joe Smooth,
Young Marble Giants,
Peter and Kerry,
Warren Ellis,
AZ,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pere Ubu,
Black Sheep,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Techniques,
Eric Dolphy,
Harry Pussy,
Letta Mbulu,
Eddi Front,
Amon Düül,
Wally Richardson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Oblivians,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Gladiators,
Monolake,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Slave,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joy Division,
MDC,
The Remains,
Chris & Cosey,
Sarah Menescal,
Ponytail,
Make Up,
Moby Grape,
Qualms,
Y Pants,
Unrelated Segments,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.