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 Bolivia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba 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 Max Romeo to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Funky Four + One,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare,
The Barracudas,
Isaac Hayes,
Make Up,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eve St. Jones,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Angels of Light,
Mo-Dettes,
cv313,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mandrill,
Mark Hollis,
Blake Baxter,
Swell Maps,
Archie Shepp,
Desert Stars,
Mr. Review,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lucky Dragons,
Maleditus Sound,
The Mummies,
Echospace,
Reuben Wilson,
Rekid,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deadbeat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Hood,
Unrelated Segments,
Michelle Simonal,
Alison Limerick,
Judy Mowatt,
MDC,
EPMD,
Lower 48,
Black Moon,
Tom Boy,
Spoonie Gee,
Buzzcocks,
Todd Terry,
Television,
Technova,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Terry Callier,
the Bar-Kays,
The Skatalites,
Lalann,
The Index,
Urselle,
Juan Atkins,
Von Mondo,
Pylon,
Kool Moe Dee,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.