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 Japan and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Terry Callier to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Public Image Ltd.,
R.M.O.,
Animal Collective,
Tubeway Army,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Robert Wyatt,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gang Green,
Hoover,
Roxy Music,
The Leaves,
Alice Coltrane,
Bill Near,
Fatback Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Quadrant,
Black Sheep,
Scan 7,
Aloha Tigers,
Funky Four + One,
Thee Headcoats,
Throbbing Gristle,
Youth Brigade,
Glenn Branca,
Siglo XX,
Boz Scaggs,
Cluster,
Rod Modell,
Rapeman,
Brass Construction,
Nik Kershaw,
Tim Buckley,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Durutti Column,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Robert Görl,
Grauzone,
The Buckinghams,
The Slits,
Main Source,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sandy B,
F. McDonald,
Chris Corsano,
Bob Dylan,
Basic Channel,
Oblivians,
Pharoah Sanders,
Whodini,
Adolescents,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Agitation Free,
In Retrospect,
Ornette Coleman,
Donny Hathaway,
Harry Pussy,
Barbara Tucker,
Royal Trux,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brothers Johnson,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.