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 Ethiopia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Girls At Our Best!,
Interpol,
Pagans,
Todd Terry,
Erasure,
Rekid,
The Remains,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Maurizio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Trumans Water,
Nas,
Harry Pussy,
Shuggie Otis,
the Slits,
the Sonics,
Aural Exciters,
the Soft Cell,
The Monks,
The Cure,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cybotron,
ABBA,
Minny Pops,
The Young Rascals,
Ice-T,
The Fortunes,
Mad Mike,
Joe Smooth,
Kayak,
Ultravox,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Happenings,
Flipper,
Amon Düül,
The Residents,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Television Personalities,
DJ Sneak,
Bobby Sherman,
John Lydon,
Bauhaus,
Bootsy Collins,
The Techniques,
X-Ray Spex,
Pantaleimon,
Moebius,
Arab on Radar,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bluetip,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nick Fraelich,
Prince Buster,
Popol Vuh,
Siglo XX,
New Order,
Slick Rick,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Theoretical Girls,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.