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 Sweden and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Fraelich,
Black Moon,
Deepchord,
Blake Baxter,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Organ,
Faraquet,
Dead Boys,
Royal Trux,
The Fortunes,
Marmalade,
Mars,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerri Chandler,
Franke,
The Seeds,
Yusef Lateef,
The Black Dice,
Fad Gadget,
CMW,
Quantec,
Mandrill,
Terrestrial Tones,
a-ha,
Funkadelic,
Essential Logic,
Television Personalities,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultravox,
June of 44,
F. McDonald,
UT,
Jawbox,
Cal Tjader,
Main Source,
Jacques Brel,
Stiv Bators,
X-Ray Spex,
Drexciya,
Sarah Menescal,
Bronski Beat,
The Electric Prunes,
The Associates,
The Sonics,
The Kinks,
Popol Vuh,
Big Daddy Kane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Severed Heads,
Wally Richardson,
Shuggie Otis,
Das Ding,
Kevin Saunderson,
R.M.O.,
X-102,
Aloha Tigers,
Dark Day,
Niagra,
the Association,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.