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 Honduras and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Don Cherry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
The Tremeloes,
Electric Prunes,
Rites of Spring,
Cybotron,
X-Ray Spex,
Kurtis Blow,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Leonard Cohen,
Radiopuhelimet,
New Order,
AZ,
ABC,
Ronan,
Wire,
Warsaw,
Stetsasonic,
John Coltrane,
the Bar-Kays,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kaleidoscope,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Von Mondo,
The Associates,
Gong,
Alison Limerick,
Cecil Taylor,
Oneida,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Dead C,
Excepter,
Bobby Womack,
Josef K,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cal Tjader,
The Victims,
Michelle Simonal,
Matthew Halsall,
Terry Callier,
Yellowson,
Mad Mike,
Althea and Donna,
The Blues Magoos,
Sonic Youth,
Aswad,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Skaos,
Sun City Girls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pulsallama,
Sandy B,
Hasil Adkins,
Siglo XX,
Scan 7,
Symarip,
Kevin Saunderson,
Qualms,
Bush Tetras,
The Durutti Column,
Monolake,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.