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 Ethiopia and from Lille.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Goldenarms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moby Grape,
the Slits,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Desert Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
The Smoke,
Nirvana,
Newcleus,
Siglo XX,
Idris Muhammad,
Sun Ra,
Sun City Girls,
Khruangbin,
Kaleidoscope,
Lakeside,
8 Eyed Spy,
F. McDonald,
Dennis Brown,
Stiv Bators,
the Fania All-Stars,
Infiniti,
Rites of Spring,
Arcadia,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Colin Newman,
Tres Demented,
Parry Music,
Flash Fearless,
Al Stewart,
Hashim,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wings,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Sheep,
the Normal,
Ice-T,
Surgeon,
Supertramp,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jandek,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dawn Penn,
Moebius,
48th St. Collective,
Todd Terry,
Bizarre Inc.,
Zero Boys,
a-ha,
Blancmange,
Deakin,
The Offenders,
Das Ding,
Cal Tjader,
Warsaw,
Charles Mingus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Morten Harket,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.