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 Seychelles and from Bremen.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Audionom 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
the Normal,
The Skatalites,
Stiv Bators,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wings,
Bang On A Can,
The Count Five,
Roy Ayers,
Blossom Toes,
Camouflage,
Zero Boys,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rekid,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Flag,
Cecil Taylor,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marine Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Womack,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tommy Roe,
Gang of Four,
Crooked Eye,
Chris & Cosey,
Jawbox,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Dirtbombs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Loose Ends,
The Selecter,
Marshall Jefferson,
Carl Craig,
Khruangbin,
The Moody Blues,
Marmalade,
Donald Byrd,
The Durutti Column,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oblivians,
Mission of Burma,
The Fall,
Franke,
H. Thieme,
AZ,
Deadbeat,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Theoretical Girls,
The Smiths,
Quantec,
Cybotron,
Moebius,
Swell Maps,
Juan Atkins,
Nils Olav,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Television,
Ronan,
Wolf Eyes,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.