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 India and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 The Moleskins to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Grauzone,
Ultravox,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dave Gahan,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rites of Spring,
Peter and Kerry,
John Cale,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
New York Dolls,
Soft Machine,
Ponytail,
Bobby Womack,
The Modern Lovers,
Marine Girls,
Aural Exciters,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smiths,
Organ,
Davy DMX,
Sällskapet,
Underground Resistance,
The Busters,
Eli Mardock,
H. Thieme,
Moby Grape,
Marmalade,
DJ Sneak,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sixth Finger,
Aaron Thompson,
Todd Rundgren,
Icehouse,
Ultra Naté,
Robert Hood,
The Raincoats,
Dorothy Ashby,
Albert Ayler,
Ultimate Spinach,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Minny Pops,
Yusef Lateef,
Ituana,
Aswad,
Swans,
Young Marble Giants,
Au Pairs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Surgeon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Echospace,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Offenders,
the Fania All-Stars,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare,
Accadde A,
a-ha,
Whodini,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.