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 Israel 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 H. Thieme to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Oblivians,
Inner City,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Womack,
Kas Product,
Scrapy,
The Fugs,
Jacob Miller,
The Zeros,
Eddi Front,
Mars,
The Slackers,
DNA,
Von Mondo,
Mark Hollis,
Fela Kuti,
Harry Pussy,
Amon Düül II,
The Dead C,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Raincoats,
The Neon Judgement,
Wally Richardson,
Parry Music,
Royal Trux,
Jawbox,
Underground Resistance,
The Monks,
The Smiths,
Bobby Byrd,
U.S. Maple,
Dark Day,
Spandau Ballet,
Leonard Cohen,
Cameo,
Vladislav Delay,
Swell Maps,
Metal Thangz,
The Move,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Alison Limerick,
H. Thieme,
Fat Boys,
The Cowsills,
Dave Gahan,
Pere Ubu,
Piero Umiliani,
Oneida,
Sugar Minott,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Tremeloes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ponytail,
48th St. Collective,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Grauzone,
Thee Headcoats,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.