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 Panama and from Taipei.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Suicide to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
The Pretty Things,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Happenings,
Thee Headcoats,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Absolute Body Control,
The Techniques,
Tom Boy,
Organ,
Patti Smith,
Anakelly,
Whodini,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bad Manners,
The Slackers,
Sarah Menescal,
Visage,
Scott Walker,
Funky Four + One,
Quando Quango,
Simply Red,
Swell Maps,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Brass Construction,
The Last Poets,
Lyres,
The Doors,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Zero Boys,
David Bowie,
Liliput,
Suicide,
Cymande,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fad Gadget,
Eli Mardock,
James White and The Blacks,
Joe Finger,
China Crisis,
Terry Callier,
Agent Orange,
Harry Pussy,
Arthur Verocai,
The Standells,
The Raincoats,
Boz Scaggs,
Chris & Cosey,
U.S. Maple,
Newcleus,
Electric Prunes,
Silicon Teens,
The J.B.'s,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Gun Club,
Jandek,
Boogie Down Productions,
Black Sheep,
The Dave Clark Five,
Neu!,
Nils Olav,
Los Fastidios,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.