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 Egypt and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Dark Day,
Jawbox,
Harpers Bizarre,
Outsiders,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Golliwogs,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Selecter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Misunderstood,
Yazoo,
Bootsy Collins,
The Litter,
cv313,
The Saints,
Infiniti,
Roy Ayers,
the Soft Cell,
Maurizio,
Lyres,
Yaz,
Sandy B,
Dennis Brown,
The Human League,
The Music Machine,
Q and Not U,
Leonard Cohen,
Danielle Patucci,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Moon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fad Gadget,
Marmalade,
Radio Birdman,
The American Breed,
Agitation Free,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare,
Essential Logic,
Hashim,
New Age Steppers,
Rosa Yemen,
Flash Fearless,
Kurtis Blow,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Angels of Light,
Fela Kuti,
Howard Jones,
Nick Fraelich,
Ken Boothe,
Qualms,
Joy Division,
Fatback Band,
Brass Construction,
One Last Wish,
Aswad,
Fugazi,
Silicon Teens,
A Certain Ratio,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.