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 Slovenia and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar 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 Lucky Dragons to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Cluster,
Chris & Cosey,
Pantaleimon,
Wasted Youth,
Joe Finger,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Smog,
Eddi Front,
Yusef Lateef,
Hardrive,
Donny Hathaway,
Reuben Wilson,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sound,
Deepchord,
ABBA,
Soul II Soul,
Youth Brigade,
The Tremeloes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang Green,
Lightning Bolt,
The Sonics,
JFA,
Isaac Hayes,
The United States of America,
Country Teasers,
Harmonia,
The Standells,
The Associates,
Sixth Finger,
Malaria!,
Brick,
The Names,
Kenny Larkin,
Josef K,
Khruangbin,
Pantytec,
Depeche Mode,
The Skatalites,
The Five Americans,
Buzzcocks,
Kurtis Blow,
Cal Tjader,
Reagan Youth,
Kaleidoscope,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cheater Slicks,
Procol Harum,
Curtis Mayfield,
Can,
The Toasters,
Masters at Work,
Icehouse,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Slick Rick,
Moebius,
Popol Vuh,
Accadde A,
Stiv Bators,
Silicon Teens,
DJ Style,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.