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 Albania and from Copenhagen.
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 Bologna and Paris.
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 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Alarm Clocks to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Wire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
The Mojo Men,
June Days,
UT,
the Association,
Morten Harket,
Bootsy Collins,
Au Pairs,
Kenny Larkin,
The Slits,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eve St. Jones,
Kurtis Blow,
Funky Four + One,
Sällskapet,
Mo-Dettes,
Harry Pussy,
The Gun Club,
Suicide,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cabaret Voltaire,
New Age Steppers,
The Gories,
Stiv Bators,
Rites of Spring,
Nick Fraelich,
the Soft Cell,
The Move,
Jacob Miller,
Byron Stingily,
Public Enemy,
The Cramps,
The Doors,
The Litter,
Shoche,
David McCallum,
Minnie Riperton,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Anakelly,
Nico,
Subhumans,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Faust,
Technova,
Kas Product,
Spandau Ballet,
Scion,
Monolake,
The Monochrome Set,
Rekid,
kango's stein massive,
The Velvet Underground,
Fela Kuti,
10cc,
The Grass Roots,
48th St. Collective,
La Düsseldorf,
Johnny Clarke,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brass Construction,
Eden Ahbez,
The Motions,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.