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 Belize and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Jesper Dahlback to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Crash Course in Science,
Flipper,
The Invisible,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thompson Twins,
Alison Limerick,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
John Coltrane,
Drexciya,
Jeff Mills,
Pylon,
Roxy Music,
Brothers Johnson,
Soulsonic Force,
CMW,
DJ Sneak,
Sarah Menescal,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Throbbing Gristle,
Siglo XX,
James White and The Blacks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Franke,
One Last Wish,
Kaleidoscope,
Pere Ubu,
Bluetip,
Zapp,
Symarip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sam Rivers,
Pussy Galore,
Pantytec,
Bobby Byrd,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Motorama,
Banda Bassotti,
Skaos,
Neu!,
Danielle Patucci,
FM Einheit,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marcia Griffiths,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Clarke,
Theoretical Girls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
10cc,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Blake Baxter,
The Trojans,
The Blackbyrds,
Jesper Dahlback,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.