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 Liechtenstein and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blake Baxter 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Public Enemy,
Swans,
Connie Case,
The Vogues,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cramps,
Silicon Teens,
Television Personalities,
Arab on Radar,
Camberwell Now,
Glenn Branca,
Babytalk,
Wasted Youth,
D'Angelo,
Byron Stingily,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Blancmange,
The Durutti Column,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Soft Cell,
Nirvana,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Intrusion,
Kas Product,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scion,
Gil Scott Heron,
Banda Bassotti,
Mark Hollis,
Lyres,
The Knickerbockers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jacob Miller,
Crash Course in Science,
Fad Gadget,
Black Flag,
Nation of Ulysses,
Joey Negro,
The Gun Club,
Massinfluence,
The Grass Roots,
Ornette Coleman,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Junior Murvin,
The Dirtbombs,
Darondo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lalann,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Charles Mingus,
Johnny Osbourne,
David Bowie,
Spoonie Gee,
Arcadia,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.