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 Dominica and from London.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum 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 Soul Sonic Force to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Porter Ricks,
Alice Coltrane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
PIL,
Tears for Fears,
Chris Corsano,
Wally Richardson,
Letta Mbulu,
This Heat,
Massinfluence,
Matthew Bourne,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cameo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barry Ungar,
Derrick May,
Blancmange,
ABBA,
Sex Pistols,
Bush Tetras,
Scientists,
Black Bananas,
KRS-One,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Althea and Donna,
AZ,
Little Man,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Maleditus Sound,
Urselle,
Lungfish,
Bob Dylan,
Simply Red,
Derrick Morgan,
Radio Birdman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Sherman,
Camouflage,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Guru Guru,
48th St. Collective,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
Soul Sonic Force,
Hardrive,
Joe Finger,
Hashim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vainqueur,
Peter and Kerry,
The Five Americans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.