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 Costa Rica and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Q65 to the funk 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Amazonics,
F. McDonald,
Black Pus,
Jerry's Kids,
Don Cherry,
Jandek,
The Victims,
Groovy Waters,
Funkadelic,
Black Moon,
Cymande,
Stockholm Monsters,
Roxette,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gories,
The Blues Magoos,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Althea and Donna,
Jacob Miller,
Susan Cadogan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
World's Most,
Tomorrow,
The J.B.'s,
Joe Smooth,
Andrew Hill,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sixth Finger,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jerry Gold Smith,
48th St. Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
Panda Bear,
The Walker Brothers,
Ultra Naté,
CMW,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yellowson,
Symarip,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Freddie Wadling,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare,
Au Pairs,
Ken Boothe,
Pantytec,
Oneida,
Das Ding,
MC5,
Mr. Review,
The Angels of Light,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sarah Menescal,
Spoonie Gee,
Simply Red,
The Standells,
Byron Stingily,
Outsiders,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wings,
The United States of America,
Brick,
Rod Modell,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.