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 Italy and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator 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 T. Rex to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Slave,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wire,
kango's stein massive,
Kurtis Blow,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish,
Ituana,
Ronan,
Jeff Mills,
The Cure,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Donny Hathaway,
Chris Corsano,
Subhumans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crooked Eye,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Remains,
John Coltrane,
Brand Nubian,
Brick,
Todd Rundgren,
The Vogues,
Flash Fearless,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Monks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Jawbox,
Little Man,
Marcia Griffiths,
Henry Cow,
Eurythmics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Jesper Dahlback,
Main Source,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Beau Brummels,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Davy DMX,
Bush Tetras,
Minnie Riperton,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bizarre Inc.,
DJ Sneak,
Sexual Harrassment,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
D'Angelo,
H. Thieme,
The Flesh Eaters,
Godley & Creme,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Dead C,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Evens,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.