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 Manchester.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar 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 Ten City to the funk 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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
E-Dancer,
The Last Poets,
Johnny Osbourne,
Warren Ellis,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Idris Muhammad,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Terry Callier,
Rosa Yemen,
Lungfish,
Pantaleimon,
Junior Murvin,
Sällskapet,
Reuben Wilson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gong,
Pylon,
The Buckinghams,
Can,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Royal Trux,
Jacob Miller,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hot Snakes,
The Toasters,
Bronski Beat,
Minnie Riperton,
Marc Almond,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Subhumans,
The Fugs,
Tubeway Army,
Visage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Henry Cow,
The Searchers,
Angry Samoans,
The Moleskins,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Offenders,
One Last Wish,
Skriet,
Echospace,
Mary Jane Girls,
David McCallum,
Make Up,
Sarah Menescal,
The Young Rascals,
Lakeside,
Severed Heads,
Yusef Lateef,
Urselle,
B.T. Express,
Magma,
Sound Behaviour,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.