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 Mozambique and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Funky Four + One to the punk 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
New Age Steppers,
Kas Product,
Ohio Players,
Pagans,
Freddie Wadling,
Flipper,
The Slits,
The Blues Magoos,
Section 25,
Fear,
Black Sheep,
Lakeside,
Wings,
Wasted Youth,
Roy Ayers,
The Move,
Eric Copeland,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Smoke,
Gang Starr,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeff Mills,
Crooked Eye,
Massinfluence,
The Blackbyrds,
The Saints,
Bobby Womack,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Letta Mbulu,
Erasure,
Con Funk Shun,
Tim Buckley,
Trumans Water,
Fela Kuti,
Desert Stars,
Subhumans,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Invisible,
Babytalk,
Quantec,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
FM Einheit,
Newcleus,
Ronan,
Eurythmics,
Donny Hathaway,
Patti Smith,
Sixth Finger,
the Bar-Kays,
Mandrill,
Monks,
Curtis Mayfield,
John Foxx,
Metal Thangz,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.