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 Sri Lanka and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Aural Exciters to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 H. Thieme. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lee Hazlewood,
Sex Pistols,
Excepter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Anakelly,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lindisfarne,
The Cramps,
Hashim,
The Birthday Party,
Danielle Patucci,
Man Parrish,
Deakin,
Yaz,
Angry Samoans,
Blancmange,
Porter Ricks,
Shoche,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Beau Brummels,
Mars,
Rod Modell,
Scion,
Sun Ra,
Minnie Riperton,
Magazine,
Agitation Free,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Index,
Loose Ends,
Letta Mbulu,
The Smoke,
Suicide,
Mark Hollis,
Dark Day,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
These Immortal Souls,
X-Ray Spex,
Eden Ahbez,
Inner City,
Tubeway Army,
The Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
Prince Buster,
Yazoo,
The Vogues,
Dorothy Ashby,
cv313,
Marine Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Supertramp,
Patti Smith,
Subhumans,
The Invisible,
The Saints,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nik Kershaw,
Babytalk,
Rotary Connection,
Average White Band,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.