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 Bhutan and from Woodstock.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 rhodes 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 Barrington Levy to the grunge 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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Barbara Tucker,
Crime,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joe Finger,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Grass Roots,
The New Christs,
the Bar-Kays,
Ponytail,
Anthony Braxton,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tim Buckley,
Skriet,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Moon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dawn Penn,
Peter and Kerry,
Fear,
Make Up,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Faust,
The Victims,
Pulsallama,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Byron Stingily,
Todd Terry,
Surgeon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
a-ha,
Nik Kershaw,
Pere Ubu,
Schoolly D,
Mr. Review,
Patti Smith,
Andrew Hill,
Pantaleimon,
This Heat,
Marmalade,
Japan,
Swell Maps,
Bootsy Collins,
Easy Going,
Groovy Waters,
Iggy Pop,
The Happenings,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ornette Coleman,
One Last Wish,
Crash Course in Science,
Al Stewart,
Zapp,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Clear Light,
Kas Product,
Grey Daturas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan, Derrick Morgan.
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.