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 Lebanon and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Carl Craig to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Radiopuhelimet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Davy DMX,
Tropical Tobacco,
Angry Samoans,
Cheater Slicks,
Moss Icon,
Cybotron,
Grauzone,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pagans,
Alice Coltrane,
Ludus,
The Dead C,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Josef K,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kaleidoscope,
Zapp,
Goldenarms,
The Gories,
cv313,
Qualms,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Stooges,
Bob Dylan,
Pulsallama,
Juan Atkins,
Prince Buster,
Jacques Brel,
Stiv Bators,
The Red Krayola,
Grandmaster Flash,
Anthony Braxton,
The Trojans,
Marvin Gaye,
Desert Stars,
Fugazi,
Peter and Kerry,
Ronnie Foster,
Dark Day,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Birthday Party,
The Gun Club,
EPMD,
The Dirtbombs,
Deadbeat,
The Mojo Men,
Popol Vuh,
Suicide,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tom Boy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Standells,
Saccharine Trust,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sun City Girls,
Schoolly D,
Howard Jones,
Visage,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.