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 Nauru and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin 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 Kevin Saunderson to the disco 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
MDC,
Ultra Naté,
Gang Green,
Avey Tare,
The Skatalites,
Amon Düül,
The Black Dice,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ituana,
Warsaw,
Negative Approach,
John Holt,
Bob Dylan,
Hot Snakes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Surgeon,
Blancmange,
Aural Exciters,
The Last Poets,
Excepter,
Yazoo,
Accadde A,
Scientists,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bizarre Inc.,
Silicon Teens,
Brick,
The Misunderstood,
Susan Cadogan,
Tres Demented,
New Age Steppers,
The Five Americans,
the Bar-Kays,
Gerry Rafferty,
Shuggie Otis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Wyatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Grauzone,
Thee Headcoats,
Howard Jones,
Q and Not U,
Joe Finger,
Flamin' Groovies,
K-Klass,
Kerri Chandler,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swans,
Rekid,
Man Parrish,
Little Man,
Barry Ungar,
New York Dolls,
Cymande,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
L. Decosne,
New Order,
Sarah Menescal,
The Techniques,
Terrestrial Tones,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.