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 Guinea-Bissau and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sex Pistols to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
Roger Hodgson,
Janne Schatter,
Charles Mingus,
Ponytail,
Funkadelic,
The American Breed,
John Cale,
The Vogues,
Matthew Halsall,
Hot Snakes,
Stetsasonic,
A Certain Ratio,
ABC,
Gang Starr,
Rotary Connection,
Country Teasers,
Deepchord,
Funky Four + One,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eden Ahbez,
The Wake,
JFA,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sixth Finger,
Yellowson,
Camouflage,
Pantytec,
Aural Exciters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bill Wells,
Jeff Mills,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fortunes,
Laurel Aitken,
Spandau Ballet,
Ice-T,
Donald Byrd,
Wings,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cure,
Suburban Knight,
Darondo,
Black Sheep,
Urselle,
Fluxion,
Rites of Spring,
Mission of Burma,
Godley & Creme,
Chris Corsano,
Jimmy McGriff,
Interpol,
Black Bananas,
The Black Dice,
The Toasters,
Howard Jones,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.