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 Antigua and from London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the grunge 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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unrelated Segments record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
The Slackers,
Underground Resistance,
Second Layer,
Janne Schatter,
Donald Byrd,
The Smoke,
Pere Ubu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Chrome,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Holt,
Man Parrish,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Swans,
Wire,
The Evens,
The Durutti Column,
Liliput,
Pole,
Scan 7,
Excepter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Depeche Mode,
Make Up,
Tom Boy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harpers Bizarre,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Human League,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Robert Görl,
Hoover,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
LL Cool J,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aural Exciters,
H. Thieme,
The Victims,
Robert Hood,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dual Sessions,
Technova,
Gang of Four,
The J.B.'s,
Blossom Toes,
Magazine,
The Five Americans,
Das Ding,
a-ha,
The Cure,
Moss Icon,
Skarface,
Amon Düül II,
Idris Muhammad,
John Coltrane,
Bush Tetras,
The Fuzztones,
Con Funk Shun,
Henry Cow,
Absolute Body Control,
Altered Images,
The Seeds,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.