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 Uzbekistan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin 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 Trojans to the grunge 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jimmy McGriff,
Zapp,
The Mojo Men,
U.S. Maple,
Ponytail,
a-ha,
Pharoah Sanders,
The New Christs,
Bush Tetras,
Panda Bear,
World's Most,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bluetip,
Rod Modell,
Duran Duran,
The Smiths,
Laurel Aitken,
Fort Wilson Riot,
These Immortal Souls,
Lower 48,
The United States of America,
Main Source,
Don Cherry,
Electric Prunes,
The Red Krayola,
Johnny Osbourne,
T.S.O.L.,
Althea and Donna,
Girls At Our Best!,
Judy Mowatt,
Wasted Youth,
Darondo,
The Motions,
Public Enemy,
Gang Green,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Sonics,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Bananas,
The Five Americans,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Hood,
John Cale,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang On A Can,
Nick Fraelich,
The Selecter,
Lalo Schifrin,
Spandau Ballet,
Zero Boys,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Toni Rubio,
Roxette,
Shoche,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Half Japanese,
The Fugs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Suburban Knight,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.