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 Albania and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 Index to the techno 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jerry's Kids,
Shoche,
Stiv Bators,
The Residents,
Faust,
Hasil Adkins,
Alison Limerick,
Panda Bear,
Bob Dylan,
Japan,
Can,
James White and The Blacks,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Victims,
Spoonie Gee,
Wolf Eyes,
Tommy Roe,
Severed Heads,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
ABBA,
Cecil Taylor,
Harmonia,
Bluetip,
David Bowie,
Fugazi,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Zeros,
The Move,
Magma,
Delta 5,
Michelle Simonal,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
Bush Tetras,
Brass Construction,
Section 25,
T. Rex,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pussy Galore,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cal Tjader,
John Coltrane,
Second Layer,
Skaos,
The Remains,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pagans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roy Ayers,
Organ,
The Sonics,
Babytalk,
Graham Central Station,
Joy Division,
the Normal,
Popol Vuh,
Camberwell Now,
Curtis Mayfield,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.