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 Kiribati and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Monks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
T.S.O.L.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Alton Ellis,
Metal Thangz,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The American Breed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Max Romeo,
Black Sheep,
The Invisible,
Cecil Taylor,
Swans,
Agent Orange,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Donald Byrd,
Chrome,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fela Kuti,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dirtbombs,
Toni Rubio,
The Count Five,
Absolute Body Control,
Skriet,
Pierre Henry,
Ken Boothe,
Magazine,
Todd Rundgren,
DJ Sneak,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rufus Thomas,
The Detroit Cobras,
L. Decosne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
48th St. Collective,
Roger Hodgson,
The J.B.'s,
Masters at Work,
Cymande,
Idris Muhammad,
Ultra Naté,
Scott Walker,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Prince Buster,
the Germs,
Yellowson,
Buzzcocks,
Pantytec,
Grey Daturas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roxette,
The Trojans,
Iggy Pop,
The Busters,
Dual Sessions,
The Walker Brothers,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.