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 Vanuatu 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Curtis Mayfield to the disco 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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dead C,
Scrapy,
DJ Sneak,
Throbbing Gristle,
Technova,
Franke,
The Gun Club,
These Immortal Souls,
Outsiders,
Sex Pistols,
Gregory Isaacs,
F. McDonald,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dark Day,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Q65,
Harry Pussy,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Smiths,
Groovy Waters,
Chris & Cosey,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Grass Roots,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
David Bowie,
Bill Near,
KRS-One,
Kayak,
Bad Manners,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Swans,
The Pop Group,
Alice Coltrane,
Neu!,
Black Sheep,
FM Einheit,
Maurizio,
Dual Sessions,
Quando Quango,
Clear Light,
the Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
R.M.O.,
Newcleus,
Average White Band,
The United States of America,
Camouflage,
Kas Product,
Delta 5,
Popol Vuh,
Sun Ra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Real Kids,
Supertramp,
Kurtis Blow,
Nas,
Spandau Ballet,
Alton Ellis,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.