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 St Lucia and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba 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 Toni Rubio to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Heaven 17,
One Last Wish,
Piero Umiliani,
a-ha,
Carl Craig,
Roger Hodgson,
T. Rex,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Electric Prunes,
Joe Finger,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
Joyce Sims,
KRS-One,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Alice Coltrane,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Monks,
The Barracudas,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Banda Bassotti,
Rakim,
John Coltrane,
Jacob Miller,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
David McCallum,
Ponytail,
Circle Jerks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eve St. Jones,
Sound Behaviour,
Fat Boys,
X-101,
Lebanon Hanover,
New York Dolls,
The Associates,
The Fugs,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Byrd,
Morten Harket,
The Saints,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Funkadelic,
Joey Negro,
Fatback Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Gang Starr,
Cecil Taylor,
Khruangbin,
Brothers Johnson,
PIL,
Audionom,
The Stooges,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dirtbombs,
Supertramp,
Nation of Ulysses,
In Retrospect,
Wally Richardson,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.