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 Suriname and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 David Bowie 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 Lyres to the dance 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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Joensuu 1685,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Rakim,
Hoover,
Althea and Donna,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ice-T,
the Swans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
New Age Steppers,
Yusef Lateef,
the Germs,
The Selecter,
Letta Mbulu,
Theoretical Girls,
Cluster,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Metal Thangz,
James White and The Blacks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
a-ha,
Babytalk,
Funkadelic,
Minutemen,
Cal Tjader,
Television Personalities,
John Cale,
The Tremeloes,
Donny Hathaway,
8 Eyed Spy,
Prince Buster,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scratch Acid,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Masters at Work,
Grauzone,
The Last Poets,
Archie Shepp,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Qualms,
LL Cool J,
Fear,
Sonic Youth,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacques Brel,
Adolescents,
Faust,
Spoonie Gee,
Scientists,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bauhaus,
Pantaleimon,
L. Decosne,
Ornette Coleman,
Lou Reed,
Procol Harum,
Neu!,
Drexciya,
Buzzcocks,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.