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 Afghanistan and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 organ 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 Bush Tetras to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Japan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Alphaville,
Chrome,
Lalann,
The United States of America,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hardrive,
The Buckinghams,
Gerry Rafferty,
Y Pants,
The Saints,
Eric Copeland,
Gang Green,
Los Fastidios,
Pierre Henry,
Heaven 17,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sparks,
Scratch Acid,
Aloha Tigers,
EPMD,
DNA,
Grey Daturas,
Whodini,
Sex Pistols,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Skarface,
Popol Vuh,
Japan,
Eddi Front,
Jacques Brel,
Yazoo,
Brand Nubian,
Gang of Four,
Ponytail,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Almond,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Agent Orange,
Brass Construction,
Flipper,
X-101,
Tears for Fears,
Supertramp,
The Martian,
Icehouse,
Pussy Galore,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Coltrane,
The Music Machine,
Youth Brigade,
Audionom,
The Electric Prunes,
Camouflage,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Trumans Water,
Vladislav Delay,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Tremeloes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.