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 Latvia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro 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 The Slackers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
The Gun Club,
Ponytail,
Kurtis Blow,
The American Breed,
Ultravox,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lakeside,
Colin Newman,
Soft Cell,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Gang Green,
Ituana,
Sun Ra,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dennis Brown,
The Pretty Things,
Marine Girls,
Fluxion,
the Germs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Japan,
X-Ray Spex,
Thompson Twins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Motions,
Hashim,
Babytalk,
Arthur Verocai,
The Sound,
the Human League,
The Wake,
Qualms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boogie Down Productions,
Derrick May,
Ornette Coleman,
Harmonia,
Pantytec,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mo-Dettes,
Porter Ricks,
The Mojo Men,
Skaos,
Roxette,
CMW,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ronnie Foster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Das Ding,
Suicide,
Juan Atkins,
John Cale,
X-101,
David McCallum,
Shuggie Otis,
China Crisis,
Fatback Band,
The Mummies,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.