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 Burundi and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Severed Heads to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Suicide,
Loose Ends,
The Techniques,
Piero Umiliani,
The Walker Brothers,
Danielle Patucci,
Sexual Harrassment,
Arthur Verocai,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
New Age Steppers,
Blancmange,
Monks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nico,
Ten City,
Sam Rivers,
Alton Ellis,
Erasure,
EPMD,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Newcleus,
Urselle,
Ken Boothe,
Bill Near,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scion,
Sex Pistols,
Flamin' Groovies,
Donald Byrd,
Minny Pops,
Banda Bassotti,
Make Up,
The Dirtbombs,
Mr. Review,
James White and The Blacks,
Brothers Johnson,
the Bar-Kays,
Maurizio,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Buckinghams,
Jacques Brel,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stetsasonic,
Quadrant,
Toni Rubio,
Malaria!,
Todd Terry,
Bang On A Can,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Tremeloes,
Buzzcocks,
Sun City Girls,
Index,
The Moleskins,
Junior Murvin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Whodini,
Rites of Spring,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.