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 South Sudan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Spandau Ballet to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Associates,
The Monks,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mummies,
Brick,
In Retrospect,
The Cramps,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Television,
Cheater Slicks,
Cameo,
EPMD,
ABC,
Monolake,
Animal Collective,
Banda Bassotti,
Circle Jerks,
Nils Olav,
Lucky Dragons,
Blossom Toes,
Bluetip,
Sight & Sound,
Joe Finger,
E-Dancer,
Yusef Lateef,
Flamin' Groovies,
Skaos,
Matthew Halsall,
Organ,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ultra Naté,
Pulsallama,
Hardrive,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Make Up,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Intrusion,
Nik Kershaw,
Barry Ungar,
The Velvet Underground,
Unwound,
Minnie Riperton,
Rakim,
Khruangbin,
Charles Mingus,
Albert Ayler,
Susan Cadogan,
Sparks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mandrill,
Roger Hodgson,
Fela Kuti,
The Motions,
Section 25,
Wasted Youth,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.