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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Eric B and Rakim to the crunk 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Jesus and Mary Chain record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
The Dead C,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Bananas,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Sonics,
Circle Jerks,
Goldenarms,
Black Sheep,
The Fire Engines,
Arthur Verocai,
Interpol,
Swell Maps,
The Fuzztones,
Max Romeo,
The Divine Comedy,
Tom Boy,
Ultra Naté,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Banda Bassotti,
Harry Pussy,
Mad Mike,
Alton Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roger Hodgson,
The Durutti Column,
The Sonics,
Connie Case,
Reuben Wilson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Fluxion,
The Mojo Men,
Moby Grape,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Throbbing Gristle,
DJ Sneak,
Scientists,
Section 25,
Altered Images,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Anakelly,
The Toasters,
Icehouse,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deadbeat,
Danielle Patucci,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Q and Not U,
Nils Olav,
Spandau Ballet,
Dead Boys,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jandek,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.