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 Jamaica and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar 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 Buckinghams to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Camouflage,
48th St. Collective,
Amon Düül,
Blancmange,
Excepter,
Bob Dylan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Toni Rubio,
The Last Poets,
Cameo,
Cal Tjader,
Joe Smooth,
Roy Ayers,
the Swans,
David Bowie,
Iggy Pop,
Albert Ayler,
Moebius,
Surgeon,
Byron Stingily,
Minnie Riperton,
Ituana,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Doobie Brothers,
Arthur Verocai,
CMW,
Magazine,
Prince Buster,
Lyres,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Gories,
Moby Grape,
The J.B.'s,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Victims,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Halsall,
Fatback Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Rufus Thomas,
The Associates,
Leonard Cohen,
Kaleidoscope,
The Motions,
Eddi Front,
Barbara Tucker,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Erasure,
Sugar Minott,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roxette,
Crispy Ambulance,
Little Man,
Don Cherry,
The Busters,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.