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 Gabon and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Crispy Ambulance to the grime 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Audionom,
The Selecter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Q65,
Talk Talk,
Wally Richardson,
Moby Grape,
Donald Byrd,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Doors,
Crash Course in Science,
Procol Harum,
Neu!,
Danielle Patucci,
Aloha Tigers,
Sun Ra,
June of 44,
Pussy Galore,
The Music Machine,
Joey Negro,
Maurizio,
Tears for Fears,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Standells,
The Happenings,
Dark Day,
Tres Demented,
Cal Tjader,
T. Rex,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Star Department,
Gang of Four,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
JFA,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mr. Review,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mantronix,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Martian,
Archie Shepp,
Minutemen,
Graham Central Station,
The Skatalites,
Fad Gadget,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Sherman,
Ice-T,
Motorama,
The Buckinghams,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Judy Mowatt,
Albert Ayler,
John Cale,
Minnie Riperton,
Yellowson,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.