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 Cuba and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 New Christs to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons 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?
The Knickerbockers,
Ken Boothe,
Marc Almond,
Q65,
The Gun Club,
Tim Buckley,
Amazonics,
Gichy Dan,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Albert Ayler,
The Angels of Light,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Bananas,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Joensuu 1685,
U.S. Maple,
Kerri Chandler,
Los Fastidios,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultra Naté,
The Cure,
Stiv Bators,
Moebius,
Warsaw,
Scion,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
X-101,
The Durutti Column,
The Dave Clark Five,
X-Ray Spex,
Moss Icon,
Reuben Wilson,
Kenny Larkin,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultimate Spinach,
The New Christs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Association,
The Remains,
Roxette,
EPMD,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jeru the Damaja,
Freddie Wadling,
Drexciya,
Jandek,
Fugazi,
Pharoah Sanders,
Althea and Donna,
The Alarm Clocks,
PIL,
Angry Samoans,
Suicide,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Slits,
James White and The Blacks,
The Slackers,
Desert Stars,
The Zeros,
Mars,
48th St. Collective,
Sight & Sound,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.