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 Guinea-Bissau and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sisters of Mercy to the electroclash 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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Gastr Del Sol,
Toni Rubio,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
Electric Prunes,
These Immortal Souls,
Tim Buckley,
DNA,
Boogie Down Productions,
Supertramp,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
John Foxx,
Henry Cow,
Black Sheep,
Ronnie Foster,
Panda Bear,
Mission of Burma,
Stereo Dub,
Sandy B,
Godley & Creme,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Martian,
Roy Ayers,
Faust,
Fat Boys,
Intrusion,
Yazoo,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
F. McDonald,
Zero Boys,
The Five Americans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Deepchord,
Bob Dylan,
The Golliwogs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jacques Brel,
Country Teasers,
Little Man,
Clear Light,
Masters at Work,
Ornette Coleman,
Television,
Loose Ends,
Peter and Kerry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Glenn Branca,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cluster,
Young Marble Giants,
Motorama,
Cal Tjader,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.