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 Somalia and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the techno 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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Aloha Tigers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Josef K,
The Offenders,
Lucky Dragons,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harry Pussy,
Bronski Beat,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Modern Lovers,
Scrapy,
China Crisis,
The Standells,
La Düsseldorf,
Freddie Wadling,
Aural Exciters,
Wasted Youth,
Absolute Body Control,
Harmonia,
The Skatalites,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Saints,
The Trojans,
Electric Prunes,
Minnie Riperton,
The Move,
Hasil Adkins,
The Grass Roots,
Suburban Knight,
Dark Day,
E-Dancer,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Subhumans,
Lalann,
UT,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Blackbyrds,
Connie Case,
T.S.O.L.,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Swans,
Smog,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Prince Buster,
The Music Machine,
Moss Icon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sixth Finger,
Sparks,
Bang On A Can,
The Tremeloes,
Visage,
The Red Krayola,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grandmaster Flash,
Carl Craig,
World's Most,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.