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 China and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet 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 Bobby Womack to the disco 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tomorrow,
Ken Boothe,
Donald Byrd,
The Young Rascals,
Model 500,
Urselle,
Scan 7,
Traffic Nightmare,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rekid,
The Fortunes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Radiohead,
the Human League,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scratch Acid,
Jeff Mills,
Jerry's Kids,
Deakin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rakim,
Carl Craig,
Duran Duran,
Prince Buster,
The Stooges,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cluster,
Alice Coltrane,
Scrapy,
Pole,
Dave Gahan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Terry Callier,
Qualms,
Henry Cow,
Intrusion,
Godley & Creme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rufus Thomas,
Gang Starr,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Buzzcocks,
These Immortal Souls,
Patti Smith,
Idris Muhammad,
the Normal,
The Pop Group,
Quantec,
The Index,
Matthew Bourne,
Lungfish,
Tubeway Army,
Audionom,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Peter & Gordon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Desert Stars,
Nico,
The Count Five,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.