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 Namibia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin 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 China Crisis to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Amazonics,
The Sonics,
Siglo XX,
The Kinks,
Interpol,
Michelle Simonal,
Monolake,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Saints,
Scan 7,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Prince Buster,
the Human League,
Sällskapet,
Organ,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Smog,
Skriet,
Supertramp,
AZ,
Porter Ricks,
Japan,
Reuben Wilson,
Depeche Mode,
Fort Wilson Riot,
June of 44,
Alton Ellis,
10cc,
Patti Smith,
Tomorrow,
kango's stein massive,
Brick,
Sun City Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ken Boothe,
Silicon Teens,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Radiopuhelimet,
Fugazi,
The Trojans,
Zero Boys,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dennis Brown,
Newcleus,
Sister Nancy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brothers Johnson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lyres,
Funky Four + One,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Blake Baxter,
The Gun Club,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.