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 Mauritania and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Nik Kershaw 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro 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 clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Detroit Cobras,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Velvet Underground,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nik Kershaw,
Ultravox,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeff Lynne,
Joyce Sims,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Golliwogs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Faust,
Simply Red,
The Fire Engines,
Reuben Wilson,
Bauhaus,
Ten City,
Yaz,
Glenn Branca,
Alison Limerick,
Public Enemy,
Q65,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kerrie Biddell,
Deepchord,
kango's stein massive,
The Standells,
Suicide,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Graham Central Station,
Roy Ayers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sex Pistols,
Thompson Twins,
The Grass Roots,
Prince Buster,
ABBA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sun City Girls,
Angry Samoans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Junior Murvin,
Q and Not U,
Neil Young,
Gastr Del Sol,
John Coltrane,
Mr. Review,
Jerry's Kids,
The Real Kids,
Country Teasers,
Arab on Radar,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fad Gadget,
Archie Shepp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marc Almond,
New York Dolls,
Minutemen,
The Invisible,
Letta Mbulu,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.