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 Comoros and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Monolake to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Big Daddy Kane,
Chrome,
The Last Poets,
Zero Boys,
The United States of America,
Porter Ricks,
The Raincoats,
Reuben Wilson,
The Techniques,
Desert Stars,
Toni Rubio,
ABC,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Real Kids,
Main Source,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Brothers Johnson,
Kerri Chandler,
Von Mondo,
The Wake,
Erykah Badu,
Tim Buckley,
Josef K,
Gang Green,
Talk Talk,
Excepter,
Visage,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gabor Szabo,
the Association,
Jacob Miller,
Black Moon,
The Monochrome Set,
Motorama,
Trumans Water,
Marine Girls,
Altered Images,
The Move,
Pulsallama,
Mars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Terry Callier,
Sugar Minott,
A Certain Ratio,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultra Naté,
Hot Snakes,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Byrd,
Q65,
Clear Light,
The Martian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Supertramp,
Thompson Twins,
Prince Buster,
Colin Newman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.