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 Nauru and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Swans to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Hoover,
Black Sheep,
The Fire Engines,
The Dead C,
Gang of Four,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slackers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Coltrane,
Bauhaus,
Tears for Fears,
Deepchord,
PIL,
Lower 48,
Donny Hathaway,
Motorama,
Steve Hackett,
Wally Richardson,
Howard Jones,
The Slits,
The Fortunes,
Joe Finger,
Nas,
Bill Wells,
Royal Trux,
Saccharine Trust,
Metal Thangz,
Drive Like Jehu,
Guru Guru,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Green,
Silicon Teens,
Goldenarms,
Spandau Ballet,
Black Moon,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Leaves,
Dawn Penn,
Y Pants,
Terrestrial Tones,
Underground Resistance,
Can,
Bush Tetras,
Harry Pussy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Neon Judgement,
B.T. Express,
Pulsallama,
The Velvet Underground,
Kurtis Blow,
Joe Smooth,
Janne Schatter,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Unrelated Segments,
Sam Rivers,
Ten City,
Camouflage,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.