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 Fiji and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric Copeland to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Patti Smith,
Depeche Mode,
The Slackers,
the Normal,
Hoover,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Five Americans,
The Red Krayola,
Alison Limerick,
Japan,
Gang Starr,
Stiv Bators,
Au Pairs,
Marc Almond,
Skaos,
Graham Central Station,
Eurythmics,
Aaron Thompson,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brick,
KRS-One,
Reagan Youth,
Tim Buckley,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Schoolly D,
Yazoo,
Piero Umiliani,
Newcleus,
Excepter,
This Heat,
AZ,
Black Bananas,
Scan 7,
The Music Machine,
Spoonie Gee,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Idris Muhammad,
48th St. Collective,
The Evens,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Birthday Party,
Country Teasers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tres Demented,
The Smiths,
the Soft Cell,
Urselle,
Pole,
Yaz,
Sixth Finger,
Smog,
Black Sheep,
Interpol,
Girls At Our Best!,
Yellowson,
Sun City Girls,
Magazine,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.