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 Dominica and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Michelle Simonal,
The Associates,
Steve Hackett,
Symarip,
the Germs,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Dave Clark Five,
La Düsseldorf,
DJ Style,
Stetsasonic,
June Days,
Q65,
Jandek,
Nas,
LL Cool J,
Lebanon Hanover,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Electric Prunes,
Hashim,
Tomorrow,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Spandau Ballet,
Pagans,
Ponytail,
Dennis Brown,
the Sonics,
Desert Stars,
Stereo Dub,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale,
Eden Ahbez,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Black Dice,
Pussy Galore,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Chris & Cosey,
The Dirtbombs,
Severed Heads,
World's Most,
Scientists,
Gregory Isaacs,
Deakin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Swans,
Zapp,
Morten Harket,
Laurel Aitken,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-Ray Spex,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marine Girls,
Adolescents,
The Walker Brothers,
KRS-One,
D'Angelo,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.