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 Estonia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Carl Craig to the grunge 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Sister Nancy,
Lalann,
Ultravox,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Stooges,
Prince Buster,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ice-T,
Suburban Knight,
Chris Corsano,
Procol Harum,
Peter & Gordon,
Boredoms,
Swell Maps,
Bill Near,
Wally Richardson,
Faust,
Derrick Morgan,
Japan,
JFA,
Deepchord,
The Standells,
The Young Rascals,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Remains,
Cluster,
Rosa Yemen,
Moby Grape,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
Sound Behaviour,
Camberwell Now,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Hoover,
Loose Ends,
Letta Mbulu,
Erasure,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Inner City,
Aaron Thompson,
The Real Kids,
Don Cherry,
Banda Bassotti,
Fad Gadget,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Gories,
Howard Jones,
Agitation Free,
Mandrill,
Swans,
the Association,
Television,
Parry Music,
The Slits,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scrapy,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.