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 Georgia and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Robert Hood,
Terry Callier,
Sound Behaviour,
Ossler,
Gabor Szabo,
Bob Dylan,
Amazonics,
The Young Rascals,
Rosa Yemen,
Johnny Clarke,
Buzzcocks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Groovy Waters,
Letta Mbulu,
Laurel Aitken,
Camouflage,
Sun City Girls,
The Tremeloes,
Mad Mike,
Jeff Lynne,
48th St. Collective,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dirtbombs,
The Count Five,
Pantaleimon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joe Finger,
Kurtis Blow,
Mantronix,
Blossom Toes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang Starr,
Agent Orange,
World's Most,
Henry Cow,
The Slits,
Patti Smith,
Section 25,
Cal Tjader,
Pere Ubu,
Accadde A,
Barbara Tucker,
Nas,
FM Einheit,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Searchers,
Sandy B,
Tim Buckley,
H. Thieme,
Wally Richardson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marmalade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marvin Gaye,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gladiators,
Magma,
U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple, U.S. Maple.
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.