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 Kenya and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Five Americans to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Victims,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Wally Richardson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gichy Dan,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Fatback Band,
John Cale,
Fela Kuti,
These Immortal Souls,
kango's stein massive,
Susan Cadogan,
The Invisible,
Joe Finger,
Byron Stingily,
David McCallum,
Dennis Brown,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ken Boothe,
Con Funk Shun,
Eve St. Jones,
Robert Görl,
The Flesh Eaters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Agent Orange,
Tres Demented,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Young Rascals,
Terrestrial Tones,
Soft Cell,
Tom Boy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Godley & Creme,
DJ Sneak,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minnie Riperton,
Rites of Spring,
Boredoms,
Nick Fraelich,
Arcadia,
Man Parrish,
Hasil Adkins,
Symarip,
Quantec,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Leaves,
The Knickerbockers,
The Smoke,
Roy Ayers,
Roxette,
The Buckinghams,
Subhumans,
The Techniques,
Jawbox,
Arab on Radar,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Matthew Halsall,
Ronnie Foster,
Faust,
Agitation Free,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.