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 Korea North and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 808 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the rock 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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
The Slits,
Infiniti,
Aural Exciters,
The Vogues,
Blake Baxter,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Almond,
Eddi Front,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dead C,
Half Japanese,
Scientists,
Cymande,
John Lydon,
Lou Reed,
The Fuzztones,
Surgeon,
Simply Red,
Black Pus,
Icehouse,
Oblivians,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Durutti Column,
Gastr Del Sol,
Thee Headcoats,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eve St. Jones,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Cure,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pulsallama,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ronnie Foster,
Mandrill,
the Sonics,
The Residents,
Wings,
June Days,
Suicide,
Johnny Clarke,
Roxette,
Janne Schatter,
Youth Brigade,
Hot Snakes,
Barry Ungar,
Japan,
Eli Mardock,
The Toasters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül,
Dark Day,
Judy Mowatt,
Charles Mingus,
X-102,
Bobby Womack,
Warsaw,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Bananas,
Flamin' Groovies,
B.T. Express,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.