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 United States and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
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 sitar 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 The Slackers to the grunge 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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Johnny Clarke,
Anthony Braxton,
Laurel Aitken,
the Slits,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roger Hodgson,
Soft Cell,
B.T. Express,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Arab on Radar,
The Real Kids,
The Slits,
The Moleskins,
Pantaleimon,
Gichy Dan,
Depeche Mode,
Infiniti,
Funky Four + One,
EPMD,
Rufus Thomas,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Swans,
The Smoke,
Y Pants,
Grey Daturas,
Skaos,
Throbbing Gristle,
The American Breed,
Barbara Tucker,
Andrew Hill,
The Zeros,
The Evens,
Dawn Penn,
Echospace,
Gang Starr,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Alton Ellis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Severed Heads,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ultravox,
Flipper,
Grauzone,
Boogie Down Productions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rosa Yemen,
Hardrive,
Drexciya,
Negative Approach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Birthday Party,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ornette Coleman,
Ohio Players,
Pere Ubu,
Average White Band,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.