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 Qatar and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Los Fastidios to the crunk 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Green,
Kas Product,
Y Pants,
the Slits,
Brass Construction,
The Skatalites,
David McCallum,
World's Most,
Q65,
The Knickerbockers,
Kenny Larkin,
Ossler,
Dave Gahan,
Fad Gadget,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Sonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sun Ra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Stereo Dub,
Wings,
The Evens,
A Certain Ratio,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
La Düsseldorf,
Sixth Finger,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bootsy Collins,
Lou Reed,
Angry Samoans,
Fatback Band,
Patti Smith,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Normal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marvin Gaye,
Byron Stingily,
Gabor Szabo,
Suicide,
Letta Mbulu,
H. Thieme,
the Association,
Lower 48,
The Associates,
Barrington Levy,
Camberwell Now,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jacques Brel,
Radio Birdman,
Black Flag,
F. McDonald,
Marc Almond,
Wolf Eyes,
Moss Icon,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bad Manners,
John Cale,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fire Engines,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.