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 Turkey and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fugazi to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Don Cherry,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Wake,
Ohio Players,
Popol Vuh,
Johnny Osbourne,
Motorama,
The Misunderstood,
Donald Byrd,
DJ Sneak,
Youth Brigade,
Nick Fraelich,
The Smoke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lyres,
EPMD,
Minny Pops,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Womack,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Star Department,
Soul Sonic Force,
Todd Terry,
Jacob Miller,
The Gap Band,
Barrington Levy,
Bootsy Collins,
Fugazi,
The Durutti Column,
Peter & Gordon,
Minor Threat,
Sun City Girls,
June Days,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Schoolly D,
John Cale,
Scrapy,
Erykah Badu,
Johnny Clarke,
Chris & Cosey,
Dead Boys,
Godley & Creme,
Pylon,
Lakeside,
Black Pus,
UT,
Beasts of Bourbon,
ABC,
The Index,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cure,
Radiopuhelimet,
New Order,
Pantytec,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Flamin' Groovies,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.