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 Mexico and from Lagos.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 the Association to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Susan Cadogan,
Yellowson,
Alison Limerick,
Donald Byrd,
New Age Steppers,
Danielle Patucci,
Scientists,
Ponytail,
Stetsasonic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
kango's stein massive,
The Golliwogs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Loose Ends,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
A Certain Ratio,
Bill Wells,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marc Almond,
Chris & Cosey,
Darondo,
New Order,
Lightning Bolt,
The United States of America,
Throbbing Gristle,
Khruangbin,
Stiv Bators,
Michelle Simonal,
Nils Olav,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lungfish,
Surgeon,
Funky Four + One,
The Leaves,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Zero Boys,
The Count Five,
Los Fastidios,
Country Teasers,
The Slits,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Moebius,
Porter Ricks,
Lindisfarne,
Circle Jerks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-102,
Kurtis Blow,
Reuben Wilson,
Idris Muhammad,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Agent Orange,
Intrusion,
The Grass Roots,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.