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 India and from Philadelphia.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Lakeside,
Gil Scott Heron,
Moss Icon,
Clear Light,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bluetip,
Liliput,
Excepter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Chris & Cosey,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Green,
Alison Limerick,
Lindisfarne,
Loose Ends,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Agent Orange,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skriet,
Guru Guru,
Derrick Morgan,
A Certain Ratio,
Pantaleimon,
Max Romeo,
Bang On A Can,
Inner City,
Fluxion,
Ohio Players,
The Motions,
Severed Heads,
Harry Pussy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Knickerbockers,
Silicon Teens,
The Selecter,
Judy Mowatt,
Masters at Work,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Metal Thangz,
cv313,
Mo-Dettes,
Porter Ricks,
Kayak,
Patti Smith,
Bobby Womack,
Gong,
Hardrive,
Ronnie Foster,
Mars,
Grauzone,
The Gladiators,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lalo Schifrin,
Au Pairs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slave,
Fatback Band,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.