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 Micronesia and from Manchester.
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 Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 harpsichord 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 Boredoms to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Dead Boys,
The Smiths,
The Five Americans,
Blake Baxter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vladislav Delay,
Shuggie Otis,
Harpers Bizarre,
Derrick May,
Glenn Branca,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mad Mike,
David Bowie,
The Angels of Light,
Scott Walker,
These Immortal Souls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Blues Magoos,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Offenders,
Joey Negro,
cv313,
The Fugs,
Sam Rivers,
Glambeats Corp.,
ABC,
Godley & Creme,
Brass Construction,
Bluetip,
Donny Hathaway,
The Gories,
The Beau Brummels,
Flipper,
Khruangbin,
The Modern Lovers,
Crash Course in Science,
the Normal,
Andrew Hill,
Kenny Larkin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Big Daddy Kane,
D'Angelo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Negative Approach,
Harry Pussy,
Kayak,
Neu!,
Slave,
Carl Craig,
Curtis Mayfield,
Davy DMX,
Albert Ayler,
Thompson Twins,
The United States of America,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Guru Guru,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.