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 London.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sonic Youth to the rap 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Lower 48,
The Residents,
Crime,
The Grass Roots,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Gories,
Loose Ends,
Anakelly,
ABBA,
Jandek,
Liliput,
Oblivians,
This Heat,
Radio Birdman,
Mo-Dettes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Womack,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Arab on Radar,
Chrome,
Stereo Dub,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Throbbing Gristle,
Matthew Bourne,
Josef K,
Bill Near,
Crash Course in Science,
Fluxion,
Dennis Brown,
Simply Red,
Interpol,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Little Man,
Pharoah Sanders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pet Shop Boys,
World's Most,
Roxette,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Last Poets,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Das Ding,
The Buckinghams,
Sun City Girls,
the Soft Cell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
One Last Wish,
Radiohead,
Animal Collective,
DJ Sneak,
Mary Jane Girls,
MC5,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sex Pistols,
Neil Young,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.