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 Korea South and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Khruangbin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Leonard Cohen,
Von Mondo,
Jacques Brel,
Rakim,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultra Naté,
Fela Kuti,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Sonics,
The Sound,
kango's stein massive,
Roxette,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Associates,
Jerry's Kids,
Curtis Mayfield,
Whodini,
Judy Mowatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mission of Burma,
The Saints,
Crime,
The Gap Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Sam Rivers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Silicon Teens,
The Litter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pet Shop Boys,
Hot Snakes,
Boz Scaggs,
Junior Murvin,
Make Up,
The Index,
The Leaves,
John Cale,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Yazoo,
Intrusion,
Flipper,
Dorothy Ashby,
K-Klass,
Bronski Beat,
Slick Rick,
Pharoah Sanders,
Joyce Sims,
Agent Orange,
The Stooges,
X-101,
Eric B and Rakim,
Essential Logic,
Nico,
Joe Finger,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eurythmics,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.