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 Djibouti and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kool Moe Dee to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Cluster,
Bronski Beat,
Barrington Levy,
The Searchers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pagans,
F. McDonald,
Sam Rivers,
Lower 48,
Zapp,
Harpers Bizarre,
Flipper,
Aaron Thompson,
Soulsonic Force,
Porter Ricks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Gap Band,
The Associates,
Lindisfarne,
Brand Nubian,
Donny Hathaway,
The Angels of Light,
the Soft Cell,
Youth Brigade,
Silicon Teens,
The Doors,
Mission of Burma,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yellowson,
The Busters,
Grey Daturas,
Hoover,
Bush Tetras,
Glenn Branca,
the Normal,
Radiopuhelimet,
The J.B.'s,
Rufus Thomas,
The Electric Prunes,
Bob Dylan,
Main Source,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marshall Jefferson,
Technova,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dead C,
Blancmange,
The Cure,
The Real Kids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brick,
Fluxion,
Royal Trux,
Rotary Connection,
Can,
Dorothy Ashby,
X-101,
Tommy Roe,
Warsaw,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.