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 Japan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Bootsy Collins to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harry Pussy,
Shoche,
Lou Reed,
Donald Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tom Boy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Drive Like Jehu,
Infiniti,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Massinfluence,
Laurel Aitken,
Rufus Thomas,
Blake Baxter,
Glambeats Corp.,
Agent Orange,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Gun Club,
Gang of Four,
Moebius,
the Swans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lou Christie,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Angry Samoans,
Hot Snakes,
PIL,
Ultimate Spinach,
One Last Wish,
Underground Resistance,
Y Pants,
Pulsallama,
Main Source,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Stiv Bators,
Alison Limerick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Gang Dance,
Clear Light,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mark Hollis,
Jeff Mills,
LL Cool J,
Altered Images,
The Dirtbombs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Unwound,
Prince Buster,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Grandmaster Flash,
Johnny Osbourne,
Joy Division,
Hardrive,
Bobby Byrd,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Cale,
The Modern Lovers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.