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 Yemen and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 Mad Mike 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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Gabor Szabo,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott Heron,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Velvet Underground,
The Techniques,
Little Man,
Wings,
Guru Guru,
Magazine,
Youth Brigade,
Crooked Eye,
The Beau Brummels,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mo-Dettes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Victims,
Ituana,
Barrington Levy,
Grauzone,
The Knickerbockers,
Deakin,
Organ,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultravox,
Supertramp,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Skarface,
Funkadelic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jimmy McGriff,
One Last Wish,
Rekid,
Fear,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Flag,
Sun Ra,
DJ Sneak,
Grey Daturas,
The Skatalites,
Tomorrow,
Metal Thangz,
The Golliwogs,
Scientists,
Franke,
Excepter,
Kevin Saunderson,
Japan,
Brass Construction,
Toni Rubio,
Jandek,
Babytalk,
Spoonie Gee,
Kayak,
the Swans,
Electric Prunes,
Wasted Youth,
Television,
The Saints,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.