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 Montenegro and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Carl Craig to the disco 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joe Smooth,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Searchers,
Basic Channel,
Popol Vuh,
Little Man,
Grandmaster Flash,
Stereo Dub,
Mo-Dettes,
Donny Hathaway,
Frankie Knuckles,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
Clear Light,
The Neon Judgement,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Harry Pussy,
Soft Cell,
Model 500,
David McCallum,
Make Up,
Gabor Szabo,
Bad Manners,
Jacob Miller,
Al Stewart,
Chris & Cosey,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pantaleimon,
Sun Ra,
Cheater Slicks,
Slick Rick,
Joe Finger,
Television,
Ultravox,
The Kinks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Yazoo,
Terry Callier,
Visage,
Steve Hackett,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Count Five,
Gong,
Todd Terry,
the Human League,
The American Breed,
The Mojo Men,
Ken Boothe,
ABC,
Vainqueur,
Reagan Youth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Walker Brothers,
Urselle,
The Velvet Underground,
F. McDonald,
Toni Rubio,
The Martian,
The Flesh Eaters,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.