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 Bhutan and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Tim Buckley to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
The Angels of Light,
Fifty Foot Hose,
OOIOO,
Chrome,
Lou Christie,
Kaleidoscope,
The Smoke,
Angry Samoans,
Marine Girls,
Cameo,
Patti Smith,
Wally Richardson,
Goldenarms,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Trojans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Maleditus Sound,
Altered Images,
Tomorrow,
The Mojo Men,
The Cowsills,
Interpol,
The Real Kids,
the Germs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moebius,
The Doors,
Trumans Water,
Wasted Youth,
Janne Schatter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joe Finger,
Porter Ricks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fortunes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Stiv Bators,
H. Thieme,
Eric Copeland,
Bronski Beat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stereo Dub,
Barrington Levy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donald Byrd,
Public Image Ltd.,
a-ha,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boredoms,
Black Flag,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Radiohead,
Crime,
Alphaville,
The Buckinghams,
Alton Ellis,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.