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 Guyana and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Anthony Braxton to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bush Tetras. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '70s 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 Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Byron Stingily,
Monks,
L. Decosne,
The Wake,
Moby Grape,
The Happenings,
Kurtis Blow,
John Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
Grey Daturas,
Mantronix,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Heaven 17,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Isaac Hayes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Anthony Braxton,
Skaos,
LL Cool J,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sandy B,
Agent Orange,
the Association,
Marvin Gaye,
Q65,
The Litter,
Kaleidoscope,
Clear Light,
Yusef Lateef,
Make Up,
Royal Trux,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eden Ahbez,
Talk Talk,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Erykah Badu,
Stetsasonic,
Minny Pops,
Eve St. Jones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Derrick Morgan,
Toni Rubio,
The Gun Club,
Jawbox,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ossler,
Laurel Aitken,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Little Man,
48th St. Collective,
Sun City Girls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fear,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.