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 Jordan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
The Saints,
Motorama,
Malaria!,
Royal Trux,
Spoonie Gee,
The Victims,
Eden Ahbez,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cymande,
Colin Newman,
Bang On A Can,
It's A Beautiful Day,
China Crisis,
the Normal,
Jacob Miller,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marvin Gaye,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Massinfluence,
Intrusion,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
DNA,
Deakin,
Aural Exciters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispian St. Peters,
Television,
Letta Mbulu,
Parry Music,
Ronnie Foster,
Iggy Pop,
The Monks,
UT,
Saccharine Trust,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Inner City,
Sparks,
Shuggie Otis,
Gang Starr,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
London Community Gospel Choir,
48th St. Collective,
Cal Tjader,
The Leaves,
Public Image Ltd.,
Donald Byrd,
The Associates,
Ponytail,
Blake Baxter,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fortunes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hashim,
The Gun Club,
Unrelated Segments,
Minor Threat,
The Cramps,
Blancmange,
Schoolly D,
Black Moon,
Ultra Naté,
Supertramp,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.