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 Gabon and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers,
Black Pus,
Outsiders,
Grey Daturas,
Lee Hazlewood,
Althea and Donna,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Glenn Branca,
Soft Cell,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Human League,
Aaron Thompson,
Brass Construction,
Adolescents,
David McCallum,
The Electric Prunes,
Second Layer,
Max Romeo,
The American Breed,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DNA,
Joe Finger,
Trumans Water,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sight & Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Toasters,
Fear,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Magma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Moon,
Porter Ricks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cheater Slicks,
David Bowie,
Sam Rivers,
Cymande,
The Fire Engines,
Junior Murvin,
The Kinks,
Peter & Gordon,
The Offenders,
Jerry's Kids,
Soulsonic Force,
The Victims,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Young Rascals,
Rosa Yemen,
Spandau Ballet,
Ponytail,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Half Japanese,
Icehouse,
Guru Guru,
The Names,
Buzzcocks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Masters at Work,
Lalo Schifrin,
Can,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.