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 Sierra Leone and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 marimba 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 D'Angelo to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Mantronix,
Tomorrow,
Aswad,
Brothers Johnson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lalann,
Brick,
The Names,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fall,
Quando Quango,
Joy Division,
Wasted Youth,
Jacob Miller,
L. Decosne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brass Construction,
Sound Behaviour,
Parry Music,
Livin' Joy,
Barry Ungar,
Ice-T,
Junior Murvin,
Ohio Players,
Symarip,
Harmonia,
Joyce Sims,
Joensuu 1685,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang of Four,
Cluster,
Fela Kuti,
Bluetip,
Byron Stingily,
Sexual Harrassment,
The American Breed,
Reuben Wilson,
The Real Kids,
Anthony Braxton,
Quadrant,
Freddie Wadling,
Model 500,
New York Dolls,
The Associates,
Darondo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Techniques,
The Seeds,
Babytalk,
Gabor Szabo,
U.S. Maple,
Pharoah Sanders,
June of 44,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Görl,
Cymande,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.