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 Cuba and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the rhodes 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 K-Klass to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Harry Pussy,
The Trojans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aloha Tigers,
David Axelrod,
Wire,
Ultra Naté,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Aswad,
The Blues Magoos,
Aaron Thompson,
Joe Finger,
CMW,
Alton Ellis,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Brand Nubian,
Neil Young,
The Music Machine,
David McCallum,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Sherman,
The Mojo Men,
The Durutti Column,
Average White Band,
Basic Channel,
Erykah Badu,
Man Parrish,
Jacob Miller,
Minor Threat,
KRS-One,
Cameo,
Television,
The Invisible,
Spandau Ballet,
Easy Going,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Juan Atkins,
Cecil Taylor,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Public Enemy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lucky Dragons,
The Neon Judgement,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Smog,
Delon & Dalcan,
Section 25,
Hashim,
Pole,
Fad Gadget,
Q and Not U,
Newcleus,
Donny Hathaway,
Sandy B,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Sam Rivers,
The Dirtbombs,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.