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 Georgia and from Lyon.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric B and Rakim to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
The Electric Prunes,
The Last Poets,
L. Decosne,
Sun City Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Country Teasers,
Rekid,
Toni Rubio,
Anthony Braxton,
Organ,
The Vogues,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
June of 44,
Morten Harket,
David McCallum,
This Heat,
Surgeon,
Suburban Knight,
Bill Near,
Black Pus,
Susan Cadogan,
Fugazi,
The Residents,
Gregory Isaacs,
Can,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
Saccharine Trust,
Sex Pistols,
The Walker Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
Eric Copeland,
Brass Construction,
The Seeds,
Arcadia,
Swell Maps,
The Skatalites,
B.T. Express,
Pylon,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tubeway Army,
Circle Jerks,
Glenn Branca,
Albert Ayler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ronan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultravox,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Sonics,
The Buckinghams,
Erasure,
Con Funk Shun,
Livin' Joy,
the Germs,
The Alarm Clocks,
World's Most,
Rites of Spring,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.