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 Austria and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brothers Johnson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
48th St. Collective,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Music Machine,
The Remains,
AZ,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Echospace,
The Skatalites,
Brand Nubian,
Barry Ungar,
Sixth Finger,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Sonics,
Sun Ra,
Kayak,
Schoolly D,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Man Parrish,
Ultra Naté,
PIL,
Motorama,
Sparks,
Andrew Hill,
Infiniti,
Make Up,
The Index,
Excepter,
DJ Style,
Eden Ahbez,
The Knickerbockers,
The Residents,
Camouflage,
Thee Headcoats,
Flipper,
Jacques Brel,
Reuben Wilson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Mills,
Stetsasonic,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Duran Duran,
Shoche,
Siglo XX,
The Mummies,
David McCallum,
Rosa Yemen,
Boredoms,
Skarface,
Skaos,
Gang of Four,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Moody Blues,
Minnie Riperton,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Bar-Kays,
cv313,
Brass Construction,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Normal,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.