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 Paraguay and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Clear Light to the rap 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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Fear,
Soulsonic Force,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Sonics,
Shuggie Otis,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Holt,
Idris Muhammad,
Lalo Schifrin,
Warren Ellis,
The Associates,
The Smoke,
B.T. Express,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rapeman,
Ronnie Foster,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hashim,
Underground Resistance,
Man Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
Arcadia,
The Moody Blues,
L. Decosne,
Kerri Chandler,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mark Hollis,
The Residents,
La Düsseldorf,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hardrive,
H. Thieme,
The Barracudas,
Peter & Gordon,
Sandy B,
Lower 48,
Moss Icon,
Black Bananas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry's Kids,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Happenings,
The Cowsills,
The Seeds,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Young Rascals,
The Modern Lovers,
Susan Cadogan,
Basic Channel,
New Age Steppers,
The Stooges,
Simply Red,
Scientists,
48th St. Collective,
The Gun Club,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.