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 Finland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 guitar 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 Faraquet to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
Max Romeo,
Pagans,
Amon Düül II,
John Holt,
E-Dancer,
Blossom Toes,
David Axelrod,
Laurel Aitken,
Sound Behaviour,
Davy DMX,
Fad Gadget,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Selecter,
Hoover,
Mandrill,
Saccharine Trust,
Crooked Eye,
The Last Poets,
Babytalk,
In Retrospect,
The Count Five,
Blancmange,
Henry Cow,
Danielle Patucci,
Josef K,
Arthur Verocai,
Section 25,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rakim,
Idris Muhammad,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Los Fastidios,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Man Parrish,
X-Ray Spex,
The Music Machine,
Nirvana,
Drexciya,
The Slits,
Derrick Morgan,
Ultravox,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Loose Ends,
Sun City Girls,
The Searchers,
Janne Schatter,
Sister Nancy,
Wasted Youth,
Gabor Szabo,
Masters at Work,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Althea and Donna,
Cybotron,
Angry Samoans,
Crash Course in Science,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.