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 Guyana and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nik Kershaw to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Archie Shepp,
Mandrill,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Standells,
Dave Gahan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bizarre Inc.,
Yaz,
Brass Construction,
The Selecter,
Bronski Beat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Glambeats Corp.,
a-ha,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Minny Pops,
Mo-Dettes,
David McCallum,
The Trojans,
Television,
David Axelrod,
UT,
Mark Hollis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Half Japanese,
The Leaves,
The Evens,
the Germs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Eating Sloth,
Arab on Radar,
Reuben Wilson,
Eddi Front,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Index,
Max Romeo,
The Pretty Things,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy Collins,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minor Threat,
Television Personalities,
Angry Samoans,
DJ Sneak,
KRS-One,
Matthew Halsall,
Essential Logic,
Nils Olav,
X-Ray Spex,
The Seeds,
The Kinks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Warsaw,
Saccharine Trust,
Deakin,
Minnie Riperton,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.