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 Greece and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 The Martian to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
June Days,
The Slits,
Amazonics,
Nils Olav,
The Smiths,
The Victims,
Delon & Dalcan,
Severed Heads,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Gun Club,
Roy Ayers,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Byrd,
The Music Machine,
Scientists,
Anakelly,
Crooked Eye,
Trumans Water,
Cybotron,
the Association,
Deakin,
Todd Terry,
Mary Jane Girls,
cv313,
The Gories,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bush Tetras,
The Detroit Cobras,
Susan Cadogan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Brass Construction,
Urselle,
Skarface,
Glenn Branca,
Dennis Brown,
Ralphi Rosario,
the Germs,
The Beau Brummels,
Newcleus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
The Dirtbombs,
MC5,
Marc Almond,
T.S.O.L.,
The Names,
The Trojans,
The Black Dice,
Jandek,
The Evens,
Moby Grape,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Donald Byrd,
The Fire Engines,
Reuben Wilson,
Neu!,
Neil Young,
Radio Birdman,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Monolake,
The Monochrome Set,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.