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 Haiti and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Gladiators to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Shoche. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
The Smoke,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tears for Fears,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mad Mike,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Move,
Sparks,
Pere Ubu,
World's Most,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barclay James Harvest,
Public Enemy,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stereo Dub,
Sällskapet,
Jerry's Kids,
Sexual Harrassment,
Animal Collective,
Dawn Penn,
The Mummies,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mandrill,
Camouflage,
Motorama,
Graham Central Station,
OOIOO,
Mark Hollis,
Terrestrial Tones,
H. Thieme,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
T. Rex,
Das Ding,
Popol Vuh,
Dual Sessions,
The Golliwogs,
Mars,
Clear Light,
FM Einheit,
D'Angelo,
Tomorrow,
Monolake,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Soul Sonic Force,
Echospace,
Deepchord,
Second Layer,
David McCallum,
Ituana,
The Invisible,
Easy Going,
Vladislav Delay,
Brick,
Neu!,
Harry Pussy,
a-ha,
Chris & Cosey,
Brand Nubian,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.