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 Paraguay and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 Erykah Badu to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles 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 Busters,
Das Ding,
Groovy Waters,
Mary Jane Girls,
EPMD,
Letta Mbulu,
John Foxx,
Intrusion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marvin Gaye,
Aural Exciters,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Golliwogs,
Cal Tjader,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sam Rivers,
Brass Construction,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nirvana,
Pantytec,
Swans,
Wally Richardson,
Panda Bear,
the Slits,
The Residents,
Aaron Thompson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
Index,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultra Naté,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Alphaville,
L. Decosne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Skatalites,
Pylon,
Theoretical Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Desert Stars,
Gong,
Siglo XX,
Royal Trux,
Cecil Taylor,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Offenders,
Sarah Menescal,
Quando Quango,
Interpol,
The Trojans,
Barrington Levy,
DJ Sneak,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Slackers,
Darondo,
Robert Hood,
Bill Near,
Isaac Hayes,
Bush Tetras,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.