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 Venezuela and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Scan 7 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
The Music Machine,
Urselle,
Mr. Review,
Bluetip,
Jacques Brel,
Infiniti,
Sarah Menescal,
Janne Schatter,
Hot Snakes,
June of 44,
Jeff Mills,
Amazonics,
The Trojans,
Kas Product,
Aloha Tigers,
MC5,
Monks,
Pulsallama,
T. Rex,
Lungfish,
Nils Olav,
Dual Sessions,
Blancmange,
The Kinks,
Albert Ayler,
the Normal,
Johnny Clarke,
Index,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eddi Front,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dark Day,
Warren Ellis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kerri Chandler,
Thompson Twins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Funkadelic,
Bobby Byrd,
The Fuzztones,
Cluster,
Metal Thangz,
The Grass Roots,
Ossler,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Half Japanese,
Robert Görl,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cymande,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hardrive,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fat Boys,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fortunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-Ray Spex,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.