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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the grime 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
The Moleskins,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
A Certain Ratio,
Japan,
Panda Bear,
Roxy Music,
New Order,
Cybotron,
Lightning Bolt,
Con Funk Shun,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boogie Down Productions,
Outsiders,
Joe Finger,
The Dead C,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wire,
Todd Rundgren,
Suburban Knight,
Animal Collective,
X-Ray Spex,
E-Dancer,
Popol Vuh,
Aaron Thompson,
Barrington Levy,
Pulsallama,
Neil Young,
Bauhaus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lindisfarne,
Crash Course in Science,
Derrick May,
The Music Machine,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Matthew Bourne,
The Neon Judgement,
Von Mondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Masters at Work,
Blossom Toes,
48th St. Collective,
Lungfish,
Anakelly,
Howard Jones,
Erykah Badu,
Goldenarms,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Seeds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nirvana,
Pylon,
The Gories,
Toni Rubio,
The Stooges,
Crooked Eye,
Deadbeat,
Mantronix,
Grey Daturas,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.