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 Dominica and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Curtis Mayfield to the grunge 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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic 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?
Ice-T,
D'Angelo,
Ornette Coleman,
Don Cherry,
Lalann,
Buzzcocks,
Deadbeat,
Camouflage,
Dual Sessions,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Letta Mbulu,
Saccharine Trust,
Skriet,
Arthur Verocai,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
DJ Sneak,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Organ,
The Wake,
Mr. Review,
The Monks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Walker Brothers,
Sound Behaviour,
June Days,
Agitation Free,
Make Up,
Judy Mowatt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Boredoms,
The Martian,
Bauhaus,
Gang Green,
48th St. Collective,
Bob Dylan,
The Count Five,
Anthony Braxton,
Technova,
Henry Cow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lucky Dragons,
Animal Collective,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Joe Smooth,
Harry Pussy,
Pylon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nils Olav,
DNA,
Television Personalities,
The Sound,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric Copeland,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Inner City,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
R.M.O.,
The Pop Group,
Byron Stingily,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.