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 Congo and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 808 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 Carl Craig to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Graham Central Station,
Brand Nubian,
Reuben Wilson,
Bauhaus,
Pantaleimon,
The Gun Club,
Dawn Penn,
The Red Krayola,
Unwound,
Index,
F. McDonald,
Motorama,
Das Ding,
Livin' Joy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Morten Harket,
The Names,
June Days,
Stetsasonic,
Rekid,
Inner City,
The Stooges,
Schoolly D,
Ronan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Grey Daturas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wolf Eyes,
EPMD,
Popol Vuh,
Michelle Simonal,
Danielle Patucci,
Yellowson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DNA,
Warsaw,
Ralphi Rosario,
Drive Like Jehu,
Slick Rick,
Lindisfarne,
PIL,
The Last Poets,
Simply Red,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Whodini,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crash Course in Science,
Vainqueur,
The Sound,
David Axelrod,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
Jeff Mills,
Dark Day,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.