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 East Timor and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sugar Minott to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Ronan,
Graham Central Station,
The Seeds,
Suburban Knight,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nas,
Soft Cell,
The Cowsills,
Pere Ubu,
The Blues Magoos,
UT,
Japan,
The Gories,
The Pretty Things,
Cal Tjader,
Theoretical Girls,
Neil Young,
Soft Machine,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Audionom,
Davy DMX,
The Index,
The Count Five,
Neu!,
The Smiths,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ken Boothe,
Lightning Bolt,
The Grass Roots,
Michelle Simonal,
The Zeros,
Hardrive,
Quando Quango,
Arab on Radar,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Wally Richardson,
The Angels of Light,
The New Christs,
Country Teasers,
Hot Snakes,
The Gun Club,
Joe Smooth,
the Swans,
Eurythmics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sun City Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Brass Construction,
Gil Scott Heron,
Godley & Creme,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Flag,
Eve St. Jones,
Talk Talk,
Jandek,
Traffic Nightmare,
Iggy Pop,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.