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 Syria and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 snare 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 Intrusion to the rap 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lalann,
Inner City,
Drexciya,
Josef K,
Mark Hollis,
Bronski Beat,
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
Tubeway Army,
Howard Jones,
Alison Limerick,
Von Mondo,
Magazine,
Roxy Music,
The Gun Club,
Black Moon,
Dave Gahan,
Prince Buster,
the Bar-Kays,
Todd Rundgren,
Moss Icon,
Pantaleimon,
Slave,
Matthew Halsall,
Spoonie Gee,
Marc Almond,
Niagra,
Scan 7,
Blancmange,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mo-Dettes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Swans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lyres,
Erykah Badu,
Rufus Thomas,
Parry Music,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lebanon Hanover,
Yaz,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Evens,
New York Dolls,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
PIL,
Graham Central Station,
Amazonics,
These Immortal Souls,
Qualms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ohio Players,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kerri Chandler,
Severed Heads,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.