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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jeff Mills 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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aswad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Ossler,
The Gladiators,
Albert Ayler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stetsasonic,
Rekid,
A Certain Ratio,
Thee Headcoats,
Avey Tare,
Japan,
The Count Five,
Model 500,
Sun Ra,
Rapeman,
Icehouse,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Reagan Youth,
The Leaves,
Radiohead,
Crime,
Toni Rubio,
Cameo,
The Angels of Light,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wire,
Ituana,
Curtis Mayfield,
Newcleus,
John Holt,
Desert Stars,
Slick Rick,
Jawbox,
Amazonics,
MC5,
U.S. Maple,
The Doobie Brothers,
Derrick May,
Robert Hood,
Bang On A Can,
Shuggie Otis,
La Düsseldorf,
Carl Craig,
Brick,
Soulsonic Force,
Section 25,
The Offenders,
Goldenarms,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fluxion,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Durutti Column,
The American Breed,
The Fuzztones,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.