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 Ecuador and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Archie Shepp to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Massinfluence,
Flamin' Groovies,
Judy Mowatt,
Bizarre Inc.,
Yazoo,
Wally Richardson,
Barbara Tucker,
Deadbeat,
Depeche Mode,
Deakin,
Donald Byrd,
Index,
Colin Newman,
F. McDonald,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sugar Minott,
The Associates,
Gang of Four,
Mandrill,
Can,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tom Boy,
The Misunderstood,
The Move,
Rhythm & Sound,
Chris Corsano,
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Wyatt,
Toni Rubio,
ABBA,
The Grass Roots,
Ludus,
Popol Vuh,
The Monochrome Set,
The Happenings,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Starr,
Iggy Pop,
Malaria!,
Tim Buckley,
Bush Tetras,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mr. Review,
Con Funk Shun,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nico,
Shuggie Otis,
Al Stewart,
Fugazi,
Glenn Branca,
Scion,
The Beau Brummels,
Ken Boothe,
The Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
Duran Duran,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Unwound,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.