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 Bulgaria 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Q and Not U to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Drexciya,
Fugazi,
Kurtis Blow,
Bush Tetras,
Tubeway Army,
Donald Byrd,
Can,
EPMD,
The Detroit Cobras,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scratch Acid,
Icehouse,
Malaria!,
Judy Mowatt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Connie Case,
Marmalade,
Tim Buckley,
Second Layer,
Suburban Knight,
John Lydon,
These Immortal Souls,
Matthew Bourne,
Ultra Naté,
Grey Daturas,
Niagra,
Young Marble Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Panda Bear,
Blossom Toes,
Mission of Burma,
Massinfluence,
X-101,
Lower 48,
AZ,
E-Dancer,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Television Personalities,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter and Kerry,
DNA,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Saints,
Charles Mingus,
the Sonics,
Cluster,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Black Moon,
Crash Course in Science,
Jacques Brel,
Max Romeo,
Roxette,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
MDC,
Sam Rivers,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.