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 Sweden and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the dance 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Tres Demented,
The Cramps,
Reuben Wilson,
The Motions,
Kevin Saunderson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Urselle,
Graham Central Station,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lucky Dragons,
Absolute Body Control,
Lebanon Hanover,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moby Grape,
Ultra Naté,
Arthur Verocai,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fat Boys,
The Move,
Pantytec,
H. Thieme,
The United States of America,
Glenn Branca,
Ultimate Spinach,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric Dolphy,
Alison Limerick,
The Mummies,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Mojo Men,
Warsaw,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Toasters,
Second Layer,
Theoretical Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Litter,
Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Godley & Creme,
The Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
The Gories,
F. McDonald,
Japan,
Joy Division,
Sight & Sound,
Lalann,
LL Cool J,
The Slits,
Wings,
The Blues Magoos,
Thompson Twins,
Funky Four + One,
The Cure,
The Offenders,
Maleditus Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.