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 Liberia and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tremeloes to the disco 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joensuu 1685 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Malaria!,
Ossler,
Absolute Body Control,
Sarah Menescal,
Gabor Szabo,
Quando Quango,
Curtis Mayfield,
Severed Heads,
Boredoms,
DJ Style,
Brothers Johnson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sound Behaviour,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Standells,
Josef K,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ash Ra Tempel,
UT,
The Cramps,
Archie Shepp,
The Pop Group,
The Martian,
T.S.O.L.,
Subhumans,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
La Düsseldorf,
Ludus,
Rites of Spring,
Au Pairs,
Bad Manners,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
B.T. Express,
Erykah Badu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Zeros,
Zero Boys,
Godley & Creme,
Bootsy Collins,
Hashim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Cell,
The Skatalites,
The Associates,
Altered Images,
Bill Near,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grey Daturas,
a-ha,
Leonard Cohen,
Sixth Finger,
James White and The Blacks,
Aural Exciters,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Peter and Kerry,
Freddie Wadling,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rosa Yemen,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Second Layer,
The Names,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.