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 Ivory Coast and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Modern Lovers to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Adolescents,
David Axelrod,
Erasure,
DNA,
Josef K,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Junior Murvin,
Wasted Youth,
Barrington Levy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Camberwell Now,
Darondo,
Mars,
Bobby Byrd,
The Victims,
The Fire Engines,
Reuben Wilson,
Electric Prunes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aswad,
Boz Scaggs,
Shuggie Otis,
The Dave Clark Five,
Television Personalities,
Au Pairs,
Radiohead,
Sight & Sound,
The Black Dice,
Mandrill,
The Monks,
Lightning Bolt,
Desert Stars,
The Slits,
Spoonie Gee,
Aloha Tigers,
Parry Music,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ohio Players,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ten City,
Excepter,
The Last Poets,
Chris Corsano,
Jacob Miller,
The Fuzztones,
The Music Machine,
KRS-One,
Depeche Mode,
Brand Nubian,
Godley & Creme,
Fear,
Black Bananas,
Absolute Body Control,
Dark Day,
Accadde A,
Technova,
Robert Hood,
Bronski Beat,
T.S.O.L.,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Saints,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.