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 India and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the crunk 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Howard Jones,
Grauzone,
Bronski Beat,
Sällskapet,
Fatback Band,
World's Most,
Accadde A,
B.T. Express,
The Blackbyrds,
Warren Ellis,
Bizarre Inc.,
Make Up,
Audionom,
Buzzcocks,
Aaron Thompson,
Cluster,
Danielle Patucci,
Anthony Braxton,
Jeff Mills,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Searchers,
Lebanon Hanover,
EPMD,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gang Starr,
Mars,
The Index,
ABC,
Hoover,
Mission of Burma,
The Gories,
Harpers Bizarre,
Main Source,
Flipper,
The Doors,
The Sonics,
New Order,
Eli Mardock,
Altered Images,
The Divine Comedy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Davy DMX,
Cheater Slicks,
X-Ray Spex,
R.M.O.,
Prince Buster,
Juan Atkins,
Nirvana,
Second Layer,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Parry Music,
Aural Exciters,
Alison Limerick,
Pantytec,
Spoonie Gee,
the Germs,
Banda Bassotti,
Faust,
L. Decosne,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.