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 Uzbekistan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Captain Beefheart 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 ABBA to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Aloha Tigers,
Zapp,
Dual Sessions,
Rod Modell,
The Modern Lovers,
John Coltrane,
Todd Terry,
Judy Mowatt,
Flipper,
The Gun Club,
Wasted Youth,
Graham Central Station,
the Germs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Pus,
John Cale,
The Index,
F. McDonald,
Amon Düül,
Wolf Eyes,
The Dead C,
Terry Callier,
Johnny Osbourne,
New Order,
The American Breed,
Dave Gahan,
Rufus Thomas,
Deepchord,
Joensuu 1685,
Warsaw,
Max Romeo,
The Kinks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boredoms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joe Finger,
The Velvet Underground,
the Slits,
Deadbeat,
The Raincoats,
Colin Newman,
Ice-T,
Gabor Szabo,
Lyres,
Michelle Simonal,
Nik Kershaw,
Heaven 17,
Blancmange,
Rhythm & Sound,
Stetsasonic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Leaves,
Banda Bassotti,
Hashim,
the Normal,
Johnny Clarke,
the Human League,
Aaron Thompson,
Vladislav Delay,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.