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 Niger and from London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Paris.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the jazz 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
the Bar-Kays,
D'Angelo,
Ornette Coleman,
Organ,
T. Rex,
Grey Daturas,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ponytail,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aloha Tigers,
Marvin Gaye,
John Coltrane,
Darondo,
Scan 7,
John Holt,
Groovy Waters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Grass Roots,
Pere Ubu,
Intrusion,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Iggy Pop,
Los Fastidios,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Essential Logic,
Mission of Burma,
Bronski Beat,
Stereo Dub,
Unrelated Segments,
Television,
Blancmange,
Alton Ellis,
the Germs,
the Soft Cell,
Slave,
Neil Young,
Clear Light,
Morten Harket,
The American Breed,
The Stooges,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Erasure,
Heaven 17,
Guru Guru,
Angry Samoans,
Barclay James Harvest,
Prince Buster,
EPMD,
Ronnie Foster,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dual Sessions,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
Joensuu 1685,
Oneida,
Byron Stingily,
Pussy Galore,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
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.