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 Bolivia and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb 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 Kerri Chandler to the grunge 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Mr. Review,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-101,
The Blues Magoos,
the Soft Cell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soft Cell,
Amazonics,
Colin Newman,
Scratch Acid,
Joy Division,
Oneida,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fat Boys,
Second Layer,
Swell Maps,
Fear,
K-Klass,
Angry Samoans,
Al Stewart,
Fatback Band,
Nik Kershaw,
Spoonie Gee,
The Busters,
Animal Collective,
Dave Gahan,
DJ Sneak,
Eric B and Rakim,
Deepchord,
Andrew Hill,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bootsy Collins,
The Durutti Column,
Black Flag,
Tommy Roe,
Cymande,
The Trojans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nation of Ulysses,
Con Funk Shun,
Rod Modell,
Gang Green,
Basic Channel,
Marcia Griffiths,
Suburban Knight,
Das Ding,
Toni Rubio,
Archie Shepp,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stereo Dub,
Swans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Monks,
Heaven 17,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gang Starr,
Cameo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.