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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Harry Pussy to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Birthday Party,
Desert Stars,
John Foxx,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Smog,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
EPMD,
The Victims,
Black Moon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Cameo,
Wolf Eyes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Unwound,
Monolake,
Bronski Beat,
The Zeros,
Excepter,
The Grass Roots,
Bauhaus,
These Immortal Souls,
Fatback Band,
Dawn Penn,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Aloha Tigers,
Pylon,
Hardrive,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bang On A Can,
Amazonics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Boredoms,
Andrew Hill,
Ultra Naté,
Nik Kershaw,
Thee Headcoats,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rotary Connection,
Mark Hollis,
The Modern Lovers,
KRS-One,
The Electric Prunes,
the Swans,
Y Pants,
The Count Five,
The Cowsills,
Brick,
Slave,
Jeff Mills,
Black Sheep,
Theoretical Girls,
The Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Mantronix,
Agitation Free,
The Alarm Clocks,
Suicide,
Donald Byrd,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.