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 France and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 American Breed to the rap 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gap Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Last Poets,
Young Marble Giants,
The Gladiators,
Stockholm Monsters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gabor Szabo,
Niagra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Misunderstood,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Interpol,
Junior Murvin,
Darondo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Urselle,
Average White Band,
Mo-Dettes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Fall,
Eric Copeland,
Funkadelic,
Brothers Johnson,
Rakim,
Saccharine Trust,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sparks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wire,
The Smoke,
Cheater Slicks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gang of Four,
Aswad,
Babytalk,
Joyce Sims,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
This Heat,
Absolute Body Control,
Idris Muhammad,
Rod Modell,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ronnie Foster,
Kenny Larkin,
Desert Stars,
The Cowsills,
Neu!,
Jeff Mills,
the Germs,
The Remains,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ice-T,
Tears for Fears,
Kaleidoscope,
Eddi Front,
Nils Olav,
Jerry's Kids,
Scott Walker,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.