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 Syria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Hong Kong.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Sugar Minott to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Funkadelic,
the Association,
DJ Sneak,
Graham Central Station,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yellowson,
Soulsonic Force,
Sex Pistols,
Subhumans,
Thompson Twins,
Au Pairs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Matthew Halsall,
The Stooges,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Section 25,
Underground Resistance,
Connie Case,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mummies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sparks,
Harmonia,
Young Marble Giants,
Bluetip,
The Busters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Neil Young,
John Cale,
Minnie Riperton,
L. Decosne,
Flamin' Groovies,
Y Pants,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wings,
the Human League,
Johnny Clarke,
The Birthday Party,
Juan Atkins,
Sandy B,
Khruangbin,
the Normal,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Malaria!,
Livin' Joy,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Gang Dance,
Quando Quango,
Nico,
T.S.O.L.,
Television,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash,
Aaron Thompson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bob Dylan,
Nik Kershaw,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.