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 Indonesia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the guitar 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 the Sonics 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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Pagans,
Michelle Simonal,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Avey Tare,
The Barracudas,
Inner City,
Ultra Naté,
Gang Starr,
The Birthday Party,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rites of Spring,
Magazine,
Davy DMX,
DNA,
Neu!,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Selecter,
Chris & Cosey,
Bang On A Can,
Liliput,
Urselle,
Althea and Donna,
Intrusion,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Parry Music,
Amon Düül,
Moebius,
Neil Young,
Skriet,
La Düsseldorf,
Marmalade,
Schoolly D,
Bush Tetras,
the Sonics,
Quantec,
Scott Walker,
Magma,
Matthew Bourne,
Joyce Sims,
The Angels of Light,
Lower 48,
Wire,
Bobby Sherman,
Ossler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Junior Murvin,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Gories,
X-102,
Charles Mingus,
The Neon Judgement,
the Association,
Blancmange,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Wake,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Quadrant,
Bluetip,
Sun City Girls,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.