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 Dominica and from New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 Boogie Down Productions to the electroclash 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 Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Nils Olav,
Radio Birdman,
La Düsseldorf,
Glenn Branca,
The Angels of Light,
Neu!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crime,
Boredoms,
The Searchers,
The Trojans,
Mo-Dettes,
The Five Americans,
Minutemen,
Hashim,
The Raincoats,
8 Eyed Spy,
Soft Cell,
Judy Mowatt,
Masters at Work,
Brass Construction,
the Slits,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Laurel Aitken,
Nas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Knickerbockers,
Joey Negro,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Agent Orange,
Tom Boy,
Althea and Donna,
The Move,
Ludus,
Ohio Players,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alison Limerick,
Unwound,
Inner City,
Albert Ayler,
The Mojo Men,
Siglo XX,
The Vogues,
Isaac Hayes,
Wire,
Khruangbin,
AZ,
Neil Young,
MC5,
Kayak,
The Selecter,
Chris & Cosey,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barclay James Harvest,
R.M.O.,
Oblivians,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Banda Bassotti,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.