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 Indonesia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 DJ Style to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
The Divine Comedy,
Judy Mowatt,
Eric Copeland,
Deakin,
FM Einheit,
The Standells,
Gong,
Stereo Dub,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
D'Angelo,
Brothers Johnson,
10cc,
Surgeon,
Zapp,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lalann,
Moebius,
Gerry Rafferty,
Amazonics,
Cheater Slicks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Khruangbin,
Roxette,
Funky Four + One,
Ice-T,
Erykah Badu,
Crooked Eye,
Marvin Gaye,
Tres Demented,
The Gories,
48th St. Collective,
Ronan,
Make Up,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cecil Taylor,
Country Teasers,
Pussy Galore,
Eric Dolphy,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roy Ayers,
Schoolly D,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Toasters,
Minny Pops,
Camberwell Now,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Alison Limerick,
The Grass Roots,
Desert Stars,
Jawbox,
Morten Harket,
Henry Cow,
Maleditus Sound,
The Happenings,
The Blues Magoos,
The Leaves,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.