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 Angola and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Walker Brothers to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
Jeru the Damaja,
Franke,
Tubeway Army,
Freddie Wadling,
The Litter,
The Fall,
Livin' Joy,
Pierre Henry,
Sun Ra,
Y Pants,
Public Enemy,
Cymande,
The Zeros,
Zero Boys,
The Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Derrick Morgan,
Sight & Sound,
Q and Not U,
Janne Schatter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rufus Thomas,
Groovy Waters,
Cecil Taylor,
Easy Going,
Yaz,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bill Near,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Alison Limerick,
Lyres,
Infiniti,
F. McDonald,
Cameo,
Angry Samoans,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Martian,
JFA,
Newcleus,
David Bowie,
AZ,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Stooges,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dead C,
Marine Girls,
Dave Gahan,
Wally Richardson,
Dual Sessions,
Simply Red,
Hoover,
Idris Muhammad,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ituana,
Barry Ungar,
Oblivians,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.