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 Luxembourg and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blancmange to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Tommy Roe,
Minny Pops,
Panda Bear,
Saccharine Trust,
Funkadelic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Liliput,
Godley & Creme,
DNA,
Wasted Youth,
Masters at Work,
Camouflage,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cramps,
Ralphi Rosario,
a-ha,
Half Japanese,
Boredoms,
Visage,
Suicide,
T.S.O.L.,
Oblivians,
Soul Sonic Force,
CMW,
A Certain Ratio,
EPMD,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Evens,
Thee Headcoats,
The Doors,
Stockholm Monsters,
Intrusion,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marvin Gaye,
Metal Thangz,
Country Teasers,
Dennis Brown,
Johnny Clarke,
Little Man,
Ohio Players,
Minnie Riperton,
The Count Five,
Ten City,
Aural Exciters,
Gregory Isaacs,
The New Christs,
Kaleidoscope,
Gastr Del Sol,
Newcleus,
Bobby Sherman,
John Foxx,
Fugazi,
Grandmaster Flash,
Duran Duran,
Ituana,
Oneida,
The Neon Judgement,
Cecil Taylor,
48th St. Collective,
FM Einheit,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.