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 Korea South and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
The Busters,
Subhumans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Flipper,
Fear,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Last Poets,
The Doors,
World's Most,
Barbara Tucker,
Barrington Levy,
Fela Kuti,
Zero Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Easy Going,
The Fall,
Tom Boy,
Sight & Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Buckinghams,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bill Wells,
Organ,
New Age Steppers,
Charles Mingus,
Carl Craig,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Blues Magoos,
The Invisible,
Alison Limerick,
The Smoke,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Copeland,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sandy B,
Ponytail,
Dark Day,
Erykah Badu,
Black Bananas,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Soft Cell,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Andrew Hill,
Suicide,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Idris Muhammad,
Little Man,
Liliput,
Slick Rick,
Kerrie Biddell,
Panda Bear,
The Index,
Minutemen,
Glenn Branca,
Alice Coltrane,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.