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 Costa Rica 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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fuzztones to the grunge 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Barrington Levy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brand Nubian,
John Foxx,
Dawn Penn,
Joe Smooth,
Dave Gahan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maurizio,
The Litter,
The Leaves,
The Misunderstood,
Black Moon,
Young Marble Giants,
Neu!,
Guru Guru,
Lindisfarne,
The Last Poets,
Sandy B,
X-101,
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Victims,
Newcleus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pussy Galore,
Scrapy,
Roxette,
Ohio Players,
Chris Corsano,
Ronnie Foster,
Thee Headcoats,
The Techniques,
Sun City Girls,
Josef K,
Davy DMX,
Silicon Teens,
Drive Like Jehu,
Quando Quango,
Boogie Down Productions,
Howard Jones,
The Slackers,
The Black Dice,
Surgeon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marc Almond,
Wally Richardson,
Amazonics,
The Grass Roots,
X-Ray Spex,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Birthday Party,
U.S. Maple,
Hasil Adkins,
Rod Modell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Khruangbin,
Alice Coltrane,
Agitation Free,
Boz Scaggs,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.