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 Malawi and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the techno 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
The Selecter,
Chris & Cosey,
The Residents,
Minor Threat,
Audionom,
Electric Prunes,
Q and Not U,
Todd Terry,
Accadde A,
Ten City,
The Tremeloes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Isaac Hayes,
Sun City Girls,
John Lydon,
Jesper Dahlback,
Wolf Eyes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Harmonia,
the Fania All-Stars,
Skriet,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nick Fraelich,
Stiv Bators,
Porter Ricks,
Lalann,
The New Christs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Nirvana,
Maurizio,
Juan Atkins,
The Victims,
Cameo,
X-102,
Kenny Larkin,
Surgeon,
Easy Going,
Underground Resistance,
The Stooges,
Deakin,
Hashim,
Rapeman,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harry Pussy,
Connie Case,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Monks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Laurel Aitken,
Saccharine Trust,
Marc Almond,
Soulsonic Force,
Liliput,
The Kinks,
Robert Wyatt,
Excepter,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.