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 Tajikistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Chocolate Watch Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
The Count Five,
Television,
Scott Walker,
Cymande,
Duran Duran,
Minutemen,
Nico,
Ludus,
Mission of Burma,
Peter and Kerry,
Harmonia,
Ronnie Foster,
Radio Birdman,
Das Ding,
Johnny Osbourne,
Vainqueur,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Barracudas,
The Leaves,
Rhythm & Sound,
Loose Ends,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Five Americans,
Crooked Eye,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Icehouse,
Electric Prunes,
These Immortal Souls,
Flash Fearless,
The Raincoats,
The Offenders,
Sparks,
David McCallum,
Deepchord,
Ultravox,
Goldenarms,
Bobby Womack,
Pole,
Kaleidoscope,
Yaz,
Ossler,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crash Course in Science,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pulsallama,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lucky Dragons,
Althea and Donna,
Black Sheep,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Victims,
Zero Boys,
Chrome,
Guru Guru,
Throbbing Gristle,
JFA,
World's Most,
The Velvet Underground,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.