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 Belarus and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cymande 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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Jacques Brel,
Negative Approach,
Scratch Acid,
cv313,
Brass Construction,
Roy Ayers,
Wally Richardson,
Buzzcocks,
Black Sheep,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Porter Ricks,
Schoolly D,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ohio Players,
Black Moon,
The Barracudas,
FM Einheit,
Gang of Four,
Scan 7,
L. Decosne,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Blues Magoos,
Khruangbin,
Josef K,
Mr. Review,
Wolf Eyes,
Lyres,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Qualms,
Newcleus,
The Standells,
June of 44,
Delta 5,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bob Dylan,
Electric Prunes,
OOIOO,
Lou Reed,
Circle Jerks,
The Buckinghams,
Aswad,
Echospace,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Tubeway Army,
Rites of Spring,
The Kinks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quantec,
The Cowsills,
Shoche,
New York Dolls,
Hoover,
Peter and Kerry,
James White and The Blacks,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Human League,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Skatalites,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.