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 Slovenia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord 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 Frankie Knuckles to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Shuggie Otis,
Soulsonic Force,
MDC,
Amon Düül,
Todd Terry,
Mo-Dettes,
Al Stewart,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Q65,
The Star Department,
Throbbing Gristle,
Groovy Waters,
Zero Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Urselle,
The Dead C,
The Buckinghams,
Kayak,
The Skatalites,
Intrusion,
Moss Icon,
Thompson Twins,
Lyres,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Boredoms,
Darondo,
Jacob Miller,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Quando Quango,
The Selecter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Oneida,
Main Source,
Rosa Yemen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fear,
Suicide,
The Last Poets,
Model 500,
Roxette,
Graham Central Station,
F. McDonald,
Erykah Badu,
The Gun Club,
FM Einheit,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Remains,
Sound Behaviour,
Whodini,
B.T. Express,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jerry's Kids,
the Bar-Kays,
Neu!,
Prince Buster,
The Techniques,
Carl Craig,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.