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 Morocco and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 David Axelrod to the rap 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
A Certain Ratio,
Josef K,
Ultra Naté,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Max Romeo,
The Black Dice,
Bad Manners,
Radio Birdman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crispian St. Peters,
Delon & Dalcan,
Duran Duran,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tres Demented,
Stetsasonic,
Arcadia,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sight & Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Agent Orange,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hardrive,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Circle Jerks,
The Gap Band,
Zapp,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
Panda Bear,
Warsaw,
Heaven 17,
Pantaleimon,
the Slits,
The Fire Engines,
Main Source,
Buzzcocks,
Wire,
Deepchord,
Robert Görl,
Fatback Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nirvana,
Scan 7,
Delta 5,
the Bar-Kays,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Morten Harket,
Sällskapet,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Normal,
48th St. Collective,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Monolake,
Laurel Aitken,
Bang On A Can,
Echospace,
Lightning Bolt,
The Toasters,
Harpers Bizarre,
New Age Steppers,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.