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 Paris.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the techno 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Marmalade,
Mr. Review,
The Gories,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eurythmics,
The Young Rascals,
Alton Ellis,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
The Residents,
D'Angelo,
X-102,
Tim Buckley,
The Black Dice,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scion,
Black Moon,
The American Breed,
Eric Copeland,
Supertramp,
Lightning Bolt,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jeff Lynne,
These Immortal Souls,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Blackbyrds,
Wings,
Jacob Miller,
The Tremeloes,
The Litter,
Metal Thangz,
Steve Hackett,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barry Ungar,
Zero Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
The Last Poets,
the Sonics,
Piero Umiliani,
Boredoms,
Traffic Nightmare,
Royal Trux,
Magma,
Dual Sessions,
UT,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eden Ahbez,
Gichy Dan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric Dolphy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
James White and The Blacks,
Prince Buster,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.