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 Mongolia and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Albert Ayler,
The Electric Prunes,
The Human League,
Brass Construction,
Rekid,
The Last Poets,
Colin Newman,
Sällskapet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Zapp,
The Fall,
Crime,
Liliput,
London Community Gospel Choir,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
AZ,
the Human League,
Man Parrish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Masters at Work,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Five Americans,
Pierre Henry,
Gang Green,
Nas,
Althea and Donna,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Stetsasonic,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Durutti Column,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Aswad,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Pus,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Association,
Chrome,
Minor Threat,
Eurythmics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ossler,
The Martian,
Lyres,
Magazine,
Tim Buckley,
Tubeway Army,
The Leaves,
The Divine Comedy,
Archie Shepp,
Crooked Eye,
Pole,
Suicide,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jandek,
Patti Smith,
Todd Terry,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.