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 London.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 The Durutti Column to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
The Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The United States of America,
The Saints,
Japan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Judy Mowatt,
LL Cool J,
The Five Americans,
MC5,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Stooges,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Byrd,
Das Ding,
Mo-Dettes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marine Girls,
Easy Going,
Scion,
Ludus,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Blues Magoos,
Blossom Toes,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Womack,
Robert Görl,
Fatback Band,
Bob Dylan,
Mr. Review,
Jeff Lynne,
These Immortal Souls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
Michelle Simonal,
Ossler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Von Mondo,
New York Dolls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Smog,
EPMD,
Jimmy McGriff,
Panda Bear,
The Dirtbombs,
Flash Fearless,
Jesper Dahlback,
Newcleus,
The Gories,
The Count Five,
Siglo XX,
The Birthday Party,
Pylon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minny Pops,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.