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 Tunisia and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin 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 Lalann to the crunk 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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Agent Orange,
Au Pairs,
Radio Birdman,
Pierre Henry,
Sister Nancy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oblivians,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
H. Thieme,
Interpol,
The Saints,
Magma,
Toni Rubio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joensuu 1685,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Clear Light,
Nirvana,
Slave,
The Buckinghams,
Echospace,
Lucky Dragons,
June of 44,
Neil Young,
Royal Trux,
Robert Wyatt,
The Gladiators,
Whodini,
Kurtis Blow,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ultravox,
The Fuzztones,
Grey Daturas,
Yazoo,
Derrick May,
Qualms,
Stereo Dub,
Black Flag,
Lalann,
Nick Fraelich,
The Cure,
Livin' Joy,
Minnie Riperton,
Soul Sonic Force,
Y Pants,
the Normal,
Ronan,
The Real Kids,
Das Ding,
Alton Ellis,
Animal Collective,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sonic Youth,
Zapp,
Janne Schatter,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.