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 France and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Frankie Knuckles to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Desert Stars,
John Holt,
The Saints,
Toni Rubio,
Nas,
Whodini,
Fatback Band,
Cybotron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
Index,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bang On A Can,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Camouflage,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Animal Collective,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
K-Klass,
Subhumans,
Gang of Four,
Black Pus,
Michelle Simonal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Hasil Adkins,
Byron Stingily,
Henry Cow,
Iggy Pop,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Robert Hood,
Malaria!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Fuzztones,
Crime,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lucky Dragons,
Barrington Levy,
Sun City Girls,
Kas Product,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Busters,
The Motions,
the Normal,
Fugazi,
A Certain Ratio,
Swans,
The Kinks,
Kurtis Blow,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Negative Approach,
Eve St. Jones,
Slick Rick,
Pantaleimon,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.