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 South Sudan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Cairo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 linndrum 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 Fear to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Livin' Joy,
UT,
Donald Byrd,
E-Dancer,
The Index,
the Human League,
Lakeside,
Boredoms,
The Fall,
Skaos,
Flash Fearless,
cv313,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Misunderstood,
Crime,
Monolake,
Popol Vuh,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tom Boy,
The Raincoats,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Trumans Water,
K-Klass,
The Fire Engines,
Nirvana,
Dark Day,
the Sonics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
James White and The Blacks,
Tears for Fears,
Todd Terry,
Sarah Menescal,
Fat Boys,
Boz Scaggs,
Eurythmics,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Mills,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Womack,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Johnny Clarke,
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
Niagra,
Nico,
Jacques Brel,
One Last Wish,
Circle Jerks,
Severed Heads,
Sugar Minott,
Echospace,
Rapeman,
Yellowson,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Angels of Light,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.