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 Tunisia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Birthday Party to the electroclash 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Theoretical Girls,
The Gap Band,
The Neon Judgement,
H. Thieme,
Andrew Hill,
Marine Girls,
Subhumans,
Swans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Derrick Morgan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dual Sessions,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Style,
The Dead C,
Organ,
Erykah Badu,
Charles Mingus,
The Angels of Light,
Prince Buster,
Eric Copeland,
A Certain Ratio,
Roger Hodgson,
The Vogues,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Moby Grape,
Anakelly,
Swell Maps,
Los Fastidios,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joy Division,
Skriet,
Eden Ahbez,
Eurythmics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blossom Toes,
Model 500,
Ten City,
The Golliwogs,
Excepter,
Joey Negro,
Franke,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blues Magoos,
Fat Boys,
Khruangbin,
Cluster,
The Sound,
Mandrill,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rotary Connection,
The Names,
Stereo Dub,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mojo Men,
This Heat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The United States of America,
Dawn Penn,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.