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 Cape Verde and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Jacob Miller to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Todd Terry,
Surgeon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Bang On A Can,
Sam Rivers,
Kenny Larkin,
The Blackbyrds,
Camouflage,
Donny Hathaway,
Public Enemy,
Glenn Branca,
Moss Icon,
Arthur Verocai,
Anthony Braxton,
Sarah Menescal,
Ituana,
Desert Stars,
Hot Snakes,
H. Thieme,
The Vogues,
Bobby Byrd,
The Offenders,
Interpol,
The Smiths,
The Velvet Underground,
Peter & Gordon,
Organ,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joe Smooth,
Carl Craig,
The Cure,
Joy Division,
Bobby Sherman,
LL Cool J,
Cameo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Cramps,
the Soft Cell,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fad Gadget,
Bobby Womack,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cymande,
Cecil Taylor,
Public Image Ltd.,
Eddi Front,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül II,
Wings,
Quando Quango,
Negative Approach,
Joensuu 1685,
Electric Prunes,
Shuggie Otis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Faust,
DJ Style,
Little Man,
The Angels of Light,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.