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 Angola and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno 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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe 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 sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
The Names,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fluxion,
Excepter,
DJ Sneak,
Byron Stingily,
Albert Ayler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Peter and Kerry,
Average White Band,
The Associates,
Funky Four + One,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
KRS-One,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
June of 44,
The Offenders,
Funkadelic,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fugs,
L. Decosne,
Babytalk,
Symarip,
Sun City Girls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sonic Youth,
Absolute Body Control,
Carl Craig,
Todd Rundgren,
Bill Near,
Gastr Del Sol,
Saccharine Trust,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Real Kids,
Das Ding,
Quando Quango,
Minutemen,
Robert Hood,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Slave,
The Golliwogs,
The Leaves,
Pylon,
The Monochrome Set,
The New Christs,
Surgeon,
JFA,
PIL,
Yusef Lateef,
Harry Pussy,
R.M.O.,
Dead Boys,
Swell Maps,
Alphaville,
Reagan Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Television,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
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.