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 Spain and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Country Teasers to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Brick,
Circle Jerks,
Kerri Chandler,
Tommy Roe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Au Pairs,
Zero Boys,
Tom Boy,
Fatback Band,
The Music Machine,
Malaria!,
Eric Dolphy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Porter Ricks,
The Gun Club,
Delta 5,
Soft Machine,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Blancmange,
Nils Olav,
The Names,
LL Cool J,
Sight & Sound,
The Residents,
The Dirtbombs,
World's Most,
Desert Stars,
Pulsallama,
Joensuu 1685,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
JFA,
Arcadia,
Minor Threat,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Black Dice,
Country Teasers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
R.M.O.,
Ten City,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Christie,
Funkadelic,
The Busters,
Minny Pops,
The Walker Brothers,
Brass Construction,
Howard Jones,
Oneida,
Kool Moe Dee,
Zapp,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Evens,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Interpol,
Barry Ungar,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Terror Squad Feat. Camron.
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.