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 Zimbabwe 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blues Magoos to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Vainqueur,
Sexual Harrassment,
Q65,
Animal Collective,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Coltrane,
David Axelrod,
Bad Manners,
Flash Fearless,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wings,
The Mummies,
the Normal,
Tears for Fears,
Max Romeo,
Lower 48,
Camouflage,
Mandrill,
X-102,
Quando Quango,
Agitation Free,
F. McDonald,
Wolf Eyes,
Visage,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
David Bowie,
E-Dancer,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Slick Rick,
Section 25,
Wally Richardson,
Malaria!,
The Beau Brummels,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Motorama,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Vogues,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Kenny Larkin,
Gabor Szabo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Porter Ricks,
Ice-T,
The Detroit Cobras,
Surgeon,
Groovy Waters,
Pylon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
James White and The Blacks,
Smog,
Pulsallama,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Public Enemy,
LL Cool J,
Agent Orange,
Don Cherry,
Sällskapet,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.