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 Belgium and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the electroclash 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
ABBA,
June Days,
Throbbing Gristle,
Glenn Branca,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Wake,
The Dave Clark Five,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Bar-Kays,
AZ,
Marc Almond,
Boogie Down Productions,
Neil Young,
Eve St. Jones,
Peter & Gordon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Quadrant,
The Seeds,
Bronski Beat,
Soft Machine,
Lalann,
Eric B and Rakim,
Audionom,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Pus,
Pantytec,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Camouflage,
The Kinks,
Kayak,
Sex Pistols,
Ken Boothe,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tommy Roe,
Dark Day,
Oneida,
Shuggie Otis,
Guru Guru,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Excepter,
Zapp,
The Saints,
The American Breed,
Metal Thangz,
Scratch Acid,
Chris Corsano,
T. Rex,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kerri Chandler,
Das Ding,
Tomorrow,
Anakelly,
Ossler,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Panda Bear,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cybotron,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
New Age Steppers,
Grey Daturas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.