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 Malta and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Jakarta and Columbus.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Public Image Ltd. to the crunk 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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Talk Talk,
The Velvet Underground,
The Walker Brothers,
Yellowson,
Black Bananas,
Maleditus Sound,
Altered Images,
James Chance & The Contortions,
James White and The Blacks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Arab on Radar,
Funky Four + One,
T.S.O.L.,
CMW,
Todd Terry,
Aural Exciters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lucky Dragons,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Cale,
Ossler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Deadbeat,
Eve St. Jones,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Whodini,
Prince Buster,
Ultra Naté,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lindisfarne,
Ten City,
Dual Sessions,
Groovy Waters,
Rakim,
Lyres,
Audionom,
The Moody Blues,
Marine Girls,
Popol Vuh,
Albert Ayler,
Charles Mingus,
Gang of Four,
Junior Murvin,
Negative Approach,
Boredoms,
Eric Copeland,
Yazoo,
Subhumans,
Peter & Gordon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Smoke,
Electric Prunes,
Kaleidoscope,
Kenny Larkin,
Big Daddy Kane,
DNA,
Severed Heads,
The Raincoats,
The Misunderstood,
Intrusion,
Bang On A Can,
Joy Division,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.