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 Namibia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gregory Isaacs to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Johnny Clarke,
The Music Machine,
Soft Machine,
Dennis Brown,
Scott Walker,
Soul II Soul,
The Durutti Column,
Sällskapet,
Judy Mowatt,
Agitation Free,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Letta Mbulu,
Livin' Joy,
The American Breed,
the Association,
Hardrive,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kayak,
John Coltrane,
Dead Boys,
Cybotron,
Schoolly D,
Jandek,
Pet Shop Boys,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
Khruangbin,
The Dirtbombs,
FM Einheit,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Womack,
Joensuu 1685,
Sex Pistols,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rakim,
The Cramps,
Morten Harket,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Magazine,
Sight & Sound,
Supertramp,
Aaron Thompson,
Cameo,
Interpol,
Man Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bad Manners,
Tommy Roe,
Average White Band,
Ultravox,
Susan Cadogan,
Glenn Branca,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.