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 Antigua and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 June Days to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Spoonie Gee,
Inner City,
Essential Logic,
Gastr Del Sol,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bauhaus,
Tomorrow,
Minutemen,
the Association,
The Fuzztones,
Hoover,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minny Pops,
Altered Images,
The Vogues,
Fluxion,
Radio Birdman,
Public Enemy,
X-101,
UT,
Barbara Tucker,
Amon Düül II,
The Young Rascals,
Avey Tare,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Chris Corsano,
Oblivians,
Sarah Menescal,
the Normal,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deadbeat,
Electric Prunes,
Pussy Galore,
The Zeros,
Minor Threat,
Blancmange,
Crime,
Average White Band,
the Slits,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Anakelly,
Scrapy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Brick,
Fugazi,
The Walker Brothers,
Joe Finger,
Slave,
Soul II Soul,
Brothers Johnson,
Joy Division,
The Fortunes,
Moby Grape,
Ronan,
Black Flag,
The Raincoats,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lou Christie,
The Monochrome Set,
Camouflage,
Oneida,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.