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 Serbia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk 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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Wolf Eyes,
Derrick May,
Mo-Dettes,
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
In Retrospect,
The Martian,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gories,
Hot Snakes,
Wally Richardson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Image Ltd.,
Suicide,
Graham Central Station,
The Raincoats,
Rites of Spring,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Fugs,
Boredoms,
Susan Cadogan,
The Remains,
Joe Finger,
Nirvana,
Depeche Mode,
Lou Christie,
Kurtis Blow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Dolphy,
Thee Headcoats,
ABBA,
Sexual Harrassment,
Judy Mowatt,
Skriet,
Funky Four + One,
Adolescents,
L. Decosne,
Mandrill,
Althea and Donna,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobby Womack,
The Gladiators,
Kaleidoscope,
Monolake,
Kas Product,
Scott Walker,
Barbara Tucker,
Junior Murvin,
Easy Going,
Wasted Youth,
Sun City Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Faraquet,
Stereo Dub,
Clear Light,
Drexciya,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.