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 Sweden and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Stiv Bators 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Schoolly D,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jeru the Damaja,
Parry Music,
Cymande,
Dennis Brown,
Davy DMX,
Bluetip,
Letta Mbulu,
Crash Course in Science,
The Skatalites,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Talk Talk,
Glenn Branca,
The Remains,
Slave,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Last Poets,
The Red Krayola,
Pylon,
Outsiders,
The Mummies,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Holt,
CMW,
Brass Construction,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Y Pants,
Junior Murvin,
Mandrill,
the Bar-Kays,
Boredoms,
Banda Bassotti,
Chrome,
Eddi Front,
the Sonics,
Buzzcocks,
Josef K,
Arcadia,
Flipper,
Henry Cow,
La Düsseldorf,
Boz Scaggs,
Accadde A,
Judy Mowatt,
Bad Manners,
The Fall,
Minnie Riperton,
Mr. Review,
The Birthday Party,
Mo-Dettes,
Joensuu 1685,
Dead Boys,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Dave Clark Five,
Throbbing Gristle,
Average White Band,
Thompson Twins,
Television Personalities,
Qualms,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.