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 Finland and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Fugazi to the disco 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Soul II Soul,
Terry Callier,
Gang of Four,
Letta Mbulu,
Bluetip,
Tubeway Army,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Byrd,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
This Heat,
Anthony Braxton,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Music Machine,
Harry Pussy,
The Slackers,
Pole,
Archie Shepp,
ABC,
Lyres,
Television,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
K-Klass,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mr. Review,
Niagra,
Sam Rivers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Technova,
Model 500,
Albert Ayler,
Public Enemy,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lungfish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bill Near,
David McCallum,
Godley & Creme,
Joensuu 1685,
Masters at Work,
Unwound,
Cluster,
Crash Course in Science,
B.T. Express,
Carl Craig,
Man Parrish,
The Sonics,
48th St. Collective,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Black Flag,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
OOIOO,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brand Nubian,
Negative Approach,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Faraquet,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.