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 Zambia and from Halifax.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the grime 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Inner City,
Nick Fraelich,
Oneida,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Guru Guru,
Crooked Eye,
Swell Maps,
Angry Samoans,
Severed Heads,
the Human League,
The Red Krayola,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
The United States of America,
Bill Near,
Skarface,
Oblivians,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Vogues,
Idris Muhammad,
Lalann,
Fifty Foot Hose,
David McCallum,
The Gap Band,
Hashim,
The Gun Club,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Lydon,
Dual Sessions,
The Divine Comedy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Offenders,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ultimate Spinach,
Davy DMX,
Agent Orange,
Dead Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Thompson Twins,
Bobby Womack,
John Coltrane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nik Kershaw,
Swans,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sandy B,
Can,
Cal Tjader,
Aloha Tigers,
Deakin,
James White and The Blacks,
MDC,
Mantronix,
Isaac Hayes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Accadde A,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.