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 Burkina and from Paris.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Nick Fraelich to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Ken Boothe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wasted Youth,
Vainqueur,
Sparks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neil Young,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Real Kids,
Byron Stingily,
Barclay James Harvest,
T. Rex,
Mantronix,
the Bar-Kays,
Desert Stars,
E-Dancer,
Los Fastidios,
Niagra,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Electric Prunes,
Colin Newman,
Loose Ends,
Television Personalities,
Guru Guru,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Average White Band,
Al Stewart,
The Motions,
David Axelrod,
Tomorrow,
The Music Machine,
Eden Ahbez,
Kurtis Blow,
The Moleskins,
Visage,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smiths,
Jeff Mills,
Supertramp,
Shoche,
Surgeon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gang Starr,
D'Angelo,
Fela Kuti,
Jandek,
Isaac Hayes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kaleidoscope,
Marshall Jefferson,
Minor Threat,
Hashim,
ABC,
H. Thieme,
The Gun Club,
Y Pants,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.