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 Malawi and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum 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 Duran Duran to the rock 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
X-Ray Spex,
The Misunderstood,
Kayak,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gories,
Gregory Isaacs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Mojo Men,
Junior Murvin,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Sheep,
June of 44,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hoover,
Public Enemy,
Ronnie Foster,
Ken Boothe,
Aural Exciters,
Anakelly,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rufus Thomas,
Massinfluence,
Carl Craig,
Mars,
Sparks,
John Holt,
Spandau Ballet,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Girls At Our Best!,
Outsiders,
The Count Five,
The Gap Band,
World's Most,
Lungfish,
The J.B.'s,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Byron Stingily,
Barrington Levy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Robert Wyatt,
Funkadelic,
Bootsy Collins,
The Red Krayola,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Infiniti,
Moss Icon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Camouflage,
Jawbox,
KRS-One,
Reuben Wilson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Althea and Donna,
Eddi Front,
Pantytec,
Liliput,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.