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 Venezuela and from Milan.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scott Walker to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
The Human League,
The Knickerbockers,
The Dead C,
Judy Mowatt,
The Skatalites,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donald Byrd,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fire Engines,
Boogie Down Productions,
Essential Logic,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The New Christs,
Yusef Lateef,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Dolphy,
Boz Scaggs,
Nico,
Iggy Pop,
New Order,
Icehouse,
Spandau Ballet,
Metal Thangz,
KRS-One,
Theoretical Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Unrelated Segments,
Ohio Players,
Slave,
Charles Mingus,
Panda Bear,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Residents,
The Gories,
Altered Images,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Walker Brothers,
In Retrospect,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nas,
Leonard Cohen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Urselle,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Siglo XX,
D'Angelo,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Wake,
a-ha,
Jacob Miller,
Laurel Aitken,
Suburban Knight,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
E-Dancer,
Black Moon,
Bauhaus,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.