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 South Sudan and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
June of 44,
Index,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pulsallama,
Sex Pistols,
Fluxion,
Ken Boothe,
The Busters,
The Standells,
Deakin,
Joyce Sims,
The Monochrome Set,
Jerry's Kids,
Henry Cow,
Babytalk,
Television Personalities,
Hoover,
The Barracudas,
The Star Department,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lou Christie,
Kerri Chandler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
UT,
Depeche Mode,
Pylon,
Anthony Braxton,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Idris Muhammad,
Man Parrish,
Can,
Arthur Verocai,
Wings,
Black Pus,
The Techniques,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Qualms,
Vainqueur,
Loose Ends,
Technova,
Tom Boy,
Urselle,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Grass Roots,
Heaven 17,
Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Outsiders,
Banda Bassotti,
New Order,
Buzzcocks,
Metal Thangz,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.