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 Qatar and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Cairo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Wyatt,
The Birthday Party,
Minor Threat,
Charles Mingus,
Mo-Dettes,
the Swans,
Crash Course in Science,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Last Poets,
Cheater Slicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Hardrive,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang of Four,
Matthew Bourne,
the Bar-Kays,
Gil Scott Heron,
Yazoo,
Max Romeo,
Danielle Patucci,
Nick Fraelich,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Shuggie Otis,
Oneida,
Soft Machine,
The Evens,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
Sister Nancy,
Ultra Naté,
The Vogues,
Yusef Lateef,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Franke,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gun Club,
The Litter,
LL Cool J,
Pagans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barrington Levy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Audionom,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nils Olav,
Wally Richardson,
The Divine Comedy,
Little Man,
Bill Near,
Lou Christie,
The New Christs,
Chris Corsano,
Agitation Free,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.