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 Russia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Subhumans to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Fad Gadget,
Ossler,
Smog,
Archie Shepp,
K-Klass,
Rufus Thomas,
The Music Machine,
ABBA,
Man Parrish,
Rhythm & Sound,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
E-Dancer,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Subhumans,
The Vogues,
Moby Grape,
Deakin,
Fat Boys,
Gang of Four,
Wire,
Scion,
the Swans,
Deadbeat,
kango's stein massive,
Crooked Eye,
Kurtis Blow,
Quantec,
The American Breed,
Anthony Braxton,
The Red Krayola,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fall,
Iggy Pop,
Nirvana,
48th St. Collective,
Monolake,
The Durutti Column,
L. Decosne,
Davy DMX,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobby Womack,
Audionom,
Cymande,
DJ Style,
Unwound,
Adolescents,
Deepchord,
The Cramps,
Donald Byrd,
Mo-Dettes,
The Victims,
The Cure,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kenny Larkin,
Bootsy Collins,
Josef K,
Animal Collective,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hardrive,
Talk Talk,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.