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 Greece and from Paris.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the funk 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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bauhaus,
JFA,
Harry Pussy,
Absolute Body Control,
Dorothy Ashby,
Brand Nubian,
The Victims,
Outsiders,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Wake,
Henry Cow,
The Misunderstood,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rotary Connection,
Simply Red,
Khruangbin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Connie Case,
Chrome,
The Busters,
The Black Dice,
Scratch Acid,
Model 500,
The Angels of Light,
Piero Umiliani,
Brothers Johnson,
Y Pants,
Kaleidoscope,
Althea and Donna,
Sun Ra,
MDC,
the Bar-Kays,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Infiniti,
Drexciya,
Johnny Osbourne,
Q and Not U,
The Searchers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scion,
Eden Ahbez,
Ponytail,
John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Star Department,
Royal Trux,
KRS-One,
Kool Moe Dee,
U.S. Maple,
Kas Product,
Cecil Taylor,
Erasure,
Barry Ungar,
The Dirtbombs,
David Bowie,
David Axelrod,
Wolf Eyes,
Joy Division,
Eve St. Jones,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.