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 Azerbaijan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 the Slits to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
Clear Light,
Camouflage,
The Gun Club,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The American Breed,
Theoretical Girls,
Eurythmics,
Lyres,
Zero Boys,
The Five Americans,
Quando Quango,
Spoonie Gee,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Morten Harket,
Circle Jerks,
The Kinks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roxette,
OOIOO,
Gang of Four,
B.T. Express,
Lalo Schifrin,
Depeche Mode,
Scott Walker,
Severed Heads,
Kurtis Blow,
Derrick Morgan,
a-ha,
Electric Prunes,
Stetsasonic,
Gabor Szabo,
Bill Near,
Deadbeat,
Wings,
Brand Nubian,
Tres Demented,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Qualms,
The Toasters,
Patti Smith,
Ralphi Rosario,
Maleditus Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pagans,
Heaven 17,
Michelle Simonal,
Urselle,
Marcia Griffiths,
Underground Resistance,
Neu!,
Juan Atkins,
Dead Boys,
The Buckinghams,
Porter Ricks,
Max Romeo,
Interpol,
Liliput,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.