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 Gabon and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Brand Nubian to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Mo-Dettes,
U.S. Maple,
48th St. Collective,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kerri Chandler,
Fear,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeff Mills,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Boogie Down Productions,
Organ,
the Normal,
Althea and Donna,
Brand Nubian,
KRS-One,
Donald Byrd,
Rekid,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cameo,
the Association,
Gil Scott Heron,
Niagra,
EPMD,
Reagan Youth,
Scrapy,
Yaz,
The Music Machine,
Bobby Byrd,
Visage,
Lalo Schifrin,
Swans,
Simply Red,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sister Nancy,
Cymande,
Skriet,
The Red Krayola,
Lower 48,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Audionom,
Cybotron,
New York Dolls,
Liliput,
Barry Ungar,
Joensuu 1685,
The Buckinghams,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tommy Roe,
Thee Headcoats,
Charles Mingus,
Soft Cell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Stetsasonic,
The Leaves,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Popol Vuh,
Nas,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.