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 Korea North and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 DJ Sneak to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Echospace,
Donny Hathaway,
Tears for Fears,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slackers,
Bobby Womack,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Subhumans,
Livin' Joy,
The Dirtbombs,
Nils Olav,
Erasure,
Grauzone,
Terry Callier,
Albert Ayler,
Cluster,
Nas,
Guru Guru,
Liliput,
The Moody Blues,
10cc,
Throbbing Gristle,
Josef K,
Monolake,
Mantronix,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Selecter,
Funky Four + One,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
Buzzcocks,
The Slits,
The Motions,
Marine Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Oneida,
Andrew Hill,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Victims,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Swans,
Technova,
Juan Atkins,
Skarface,
Eden Ahbez,
Amon Düül,
Model 500,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sixth Finger,
Iggy Pop,
Spandau Ballet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Byron Stingily,
Eve St. Jones,
Warren Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.