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 Hungary and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the jazz 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Groovy Waters,
The Dead C,
Lou Christie,
Pylon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Malaria!,
Althea and Donna,
Kaleidoscope,
Can,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dawn Penn,
Ponytail,
Boz Scaggs,
Minnie Riperton,
The Standells,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Near,
In Retrospect,
Neil Young,
The Angels of Light,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Outsiders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tomorrow,
The Mojo Men,
Tommy Roe,
Duran Duran,
The Wake,
The Music Machine,
The Last Poets,
Buzzcocks,
The Star Department,
Essential Logic,
The Knickerbockers,
Terry Callier,
Fatback Band,
Bill Wells,
Black Sheep,
Pussy Galore,
Sandy B,
Rapeman,
Lower 48,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Black Dice,
The Beau Brummels,
The Invisible,
Procol Harum,
Idris Muhammad,
Babytalk,
Brothers Johnson,
Q65,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mark Hollis,
the Soft Cell,
The Cramps,
Kurtis Blow,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.