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 Swaziland and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rock 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Desert Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Slick Rick,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Funkadelic,
Charles Mingus,
Reuben Wilson,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Unwound,
David Bowie,
Thompson Twins,
Popol Vuh,
K-Klass,
Roy Ayers,
The Golliwogs,
Simply Red,
Donny Hathaway,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Görl,
The Fall,
Brick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tomorrow,
Scion,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Rapeman,
Laurel Aitken,
the Soft Cell,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barry Ungar,
Nils Olav,
Warren Ellis,
Hoover,
Suicide,
The Trojans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wire,
The Fortunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Pet Shop Boys,
Zapp,
The Dave Clark Five,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cymande,
Joe Smooth,
Procol Harum,
Bill Wells,
Althea and Donna,
Maleditus Sound,
T. Rex,
Vladislav Delay,
H. Thieme,
Pole,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
DNA,
Banda Bassotti,
the Swans,
The Leaves,
Cluster,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.