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 Cameroon and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Livin' Joy,
Pantaleimon,
DJ Style,
Carl Craig,
Funkadelic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mandrill,
Tubeway Army,
Amazonics,
Sonic Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
T.S.O.L.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Janne Schatter,
Malaria!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magazine,
Half Japanese,
X-101,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lee Hazlewood,
China Crisis,
Yellowson,
Letta Mbulu,
Roxy Music,
The Doors,
The Neon Judgement,
Smog,
Oblivians,
Y Pants,
The Zeros,
Blossom Toes,
Minor Threat,
Camouflage,
Rotary Connection,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deakin,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bootsy Collins,
John Cale,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Smiths,
Avey Tare,
Tomorrow,
Agitation Free,
Fad Gadget,
World's Most,
The Music Machine,
Electric Prunes,
Todd Terry,
The Kinks,
Bauhaus,
Circle Jerks,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.