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 Botswana and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Con Funk Shun,
The Five Americans,
Kenny Larkin,
MDC,
the Normal,
Mad Mike,
Babytalk,
Ken Boothe,
The United States of America,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Real Kids,
Matthew Halsall,
Mantronix,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers,
Archie Shepp,
Kerrie Biddell,
Masters at Work,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quadrant,
Bobby Sherman,
Rhythm & Sound,
LL Cool J,
Q and Not U,
48th St. Collective,
Gang of Four,
The Names,
Dawn Penn,
Soft Cell,
The Gap Band,
Fugazi,
Spoonie Gee,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Surgeon,
The Durutti Column,
Section 25,
Lindisfarne,
Joey Negro,
Main Source,
Arthur Verocai,
Chris & Cosey,
Roger Hodgson,
The Velvet Underground,
Gil Scott Heron,
Iggy Pop,
Pussy Galore,
Scion,
The Fuzztones,
Reuben Wilson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Blancmange,
Kurtis Blow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Alton Ellis,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.