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 Brunei and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Index to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fortunes,
Interpol,
The New Christs,
The Standells,
Panda Bear,
Lindisfarne,
Anakelly,
The Skatalites,
The Black Dice,
Judy Mowatt,
Pagans,
Saccharine Trust,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dennis Brown,
X-Ray Spex,
Quando Quango,
Boogie Down Productions,
Max Romeo,
Supertramp,
Bauhaus,
Ossler,
James White and The Blacks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minnie Riperton,
Minny Pops,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fugs,
Archie Shepp,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Theoretical Girls,
Jandek,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dark Day,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ponytail,
Eurythmics,
One Last Wish,
Can,
Flipper,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Loose Ends,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lakeside,
Radio Birdman,
Sex Pistols,
Country Teasers,
Althea and Donna,
Easy Going,
Circle Jerks,
Mantronix,
Lee Hazlewood,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lungfish,
Cheater Slicks,
The Velvet Underground,
Camouflage,
Bobby Womack,
Monks,
the Association,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.