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 Switzerland and from Tokyo.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 David Bowie 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 Pharoah Sanders to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Country Teasers,
Qualms,
Oblivians,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sixth Finger,
Mark Hollis,
Marc Almond,
Minny Pops,
Darondo,
Pole,
Al Stewart,
D'Angelo,
Ohio Players,
A Certain Ratio,
Brass Construction,
These Immortal Souls,
Chrome,
Jandek,
The Smiths,
Ornette Coleman,
Dennis Brown,
Mission of Burma,
Roxy Music,
Sight & Sound,
John Lydon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric Dolphy,
Motorama,
Y Pants,
AZ,
Traffic Nightmare,
Magazine,
David Bowie,
Jacques Brel,
Rekid,
Amon Düül II,
Fluxion,
Hasil Adkins,
Public Enemy,
Theoretical Girls,
Deakin,
Lucky Dragons,
The Music Machine,
Marshall Jefferson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Iggy Pop,
Roy Ayers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Masters at Work,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joy Division,
Arab on Radar,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Drexciya,
Cecil Taylor,
Dawn Penn,
Deadbeat,
Thee Headcoats,
Scan 7,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.