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 El Salvador and from Woodstock.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and London.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 The Durutti Column 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
The Searchers,
L. Decosne,
PIL,
The Black Dice,
Index,
The Five Americans,
Q65,
Cymande,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Flag,
Warren Ellis,
Sugar Minott,
The Doors,
Deakin,
LL Cool J,
Piero Umiliani,
Trumans Water,
Sarah Menescal,
Motorama,
Mandrill,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Cure,
Rufus Thomas,
Colin Newman,
Lalann,
Popol Vuh,
The Kinks,
New York Dolls,
This Heat,
Don Cherry,
Organ,
Excepter,
Magazine,
Simply Red,
Donald Byrd,
The Real Kids,
Mo-Dettes,
The Beau Brummels,
DNA,
Rites of Spring,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Arcadia,
Hardrive,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eden Ahbez,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Isaac Hayes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Coltrane,
48th St. Collective,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Heaven 17,
Tres Demented,
Sonny Sharrock,
DJ Sneak,
Roy Ayers,
Boogie Down Productions,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
Cheater Slicks,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.