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 Niger 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 John Cale to the grime 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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe 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 synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
The Offenders,
Hashim,
the Germs,
The Zeros,
The Durutti Column,
Gong,
Cluster,
The Grass Roots,
Kurtis Blow,
Aural Exciters,
The J.B.'s,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joe Finger,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dual Sessions,
Johnny Clarke,
Underground Resistance,
Lower 48,
DJ Style,
Mr. Review,
The Gladiators,
Toni Rubio,
Minny Pops,
The Last Poets,
the Association,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amon Düül,
Chris Corsano,
Jeru the Damaja,
Depeche Mode,
Magma,
Supertramp,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Birthday Party,
Albert Ayler,
Rufus Thomas,
Sonic Youth,
Freddie Wadling,
Bootsy Collins,
James White and The Blacks,
The Music Machine,
Oneida,
The Buckinghams,
Pere Ubu,
Josef K,
Quando Quango,
The New Christs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dorothy Ashby,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nirvana,
Sixth Finger,
Kas Product,
The Barracudas,
The Martian,
Fluxion,
Eli Mardock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Danielle Patucci,
The Doors,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.