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 Algeria and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 John Lydon to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum 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 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Grass Roots,
Avey Tare,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tubeway Army,
The Mummies,
The Divine Comedy,
the Swans,
Hardrive,
Parry Music,
Crime,
Youth Brigade,
The Human League,
Junior Murvin,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Masters at Work,
Suicide,
Stereo Dub,
Donald Byrd,
Tres Demented,
Tommy Roe,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Almond,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Groovy Waters,
Monolake,
Pantytec,
Spoonie Gee,
Severed Heads,
Lucky Dragons,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Sonics,
Roxette,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mr. Review,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Joensuu 1685,
Hashim,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Leonard Cohen,
Pet Shop Boys,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gories,
Young Marble Giants,
Goldenarms,
Slave,
Fugazi,
The Associates,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Birthday Party,
Kayak,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Minny Pops,
John Coltrane,
Pere Ubu,
Ohio Players,
Black Bananas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slits,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Dave Clark Five,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.