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 Mozambique and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Black Moon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Das Ding,
Yellowson,
The Victims,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Byrd,
Gregory Isaacs,
Television,
John Holt,
Bang On A Can,
Hasil Adkins,
F. McDonald,
Crash Course in Science,
The Selecter,
Agent Orange,
Siglo XX,
The Gap Band,
Eurythmics,
The Mummies,
Parry Music,
Bob Dylan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Clear Light,
Harmonia,
Gang Starr,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grey Daturas,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Trojans,
Franke,
The Real Kids,
Jeff Mills,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Slits,
Quantec,
Toni Rubio,
Pole,
The Velvet Underground,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Easy Going,
Jacques Brel,
D'Angelo,
Donny Hathaway,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Aural Exciters,
The Residents,
Tres Demented,
Juan Atkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eric Dolphy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
La Düsseldorf,
Sun Ra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Moebius,
Tom Boy,
Cybotron,
Howard Jones,
Mad Mike,
Drexciya,
Lalann,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.