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 Nigeria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet 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 Lightning Bolt to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
MDC,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Blossom Toes,
Roxette,
Jawbox,
ABC,
Crime,
The Angels of Light,
Scan 7,
The Standells,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Bar-Kays,
Eden Ahbez,
John Foxx,
Crash Course in Science,
Harmonia,
Neu!,
The Red Krayola,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Slits,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
the Association,
Ultra Naté,
Tomorrow,
Scratch Acid,
Black Flag,
Yazoo,
LL Cool J,
Ken Boothe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Durutti Column,
The Barracudas,
Marmalade,
Infiniti,
Das Ding,
Ronan,
Animal Collective,
Johnny Osbourne,
Connie Case,
Mandrill,
Kaleidoscope,
Con Funk Shun,
Stereo Dub,
Masters at Work,
Desert Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
F. McDonald,
Danielle Patucci,
Hashim,
New Age Steppers,
John Holt,
Rod Modell,
DJ Style,
Television Personalities,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Franke,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Colin Newman,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.