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 Djibouti and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Lydon to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Stooges. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Barry Ungar,
Bob Dylan,
The Offenders,
Bobby Sherman,
Scan 7,
Crispy Ambulance,
Flipper,
D'Angelo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Connie Case,
Amon Düül,
Dark Day,
Tres Demented,
Das Ding,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ice-T,
Surgeon,
Pierre Henry,
The Black Dice,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Khruangbin,
Arab on Radar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Human League,
Newcleus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Urselle,
Malaria!,
Pantaleimon,
Man Parrish,
Harry Pussy,
The Evens,
Agitation Free,
Negative Approach,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Byrd,
The Beau Brummels,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Slits,
Angry Samoans,
Gong,
Hardrive,
Zero Boys,
The Smiths,
Wire,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare,
Cheater Slicks,
Thee Headcoats,
Soft Machine,
Bronski Beat,
Barrington Levy,
The Golliwogs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rekid,
The Angels of Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Visage,
Sound Behaviour,
This Heat,
The Slits,
Derrick Morgan,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.