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 Mauritius and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Fugazi to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 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 Smiths,
Harpers Bizarre,
New Order,
Gang Starr,
The Red Krayola,
Ultra Naté,
Freddie Wadling,
Bill Near,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eden Ahbez,
Lou Reed,
Fear,
Max Romeo,
Henry Cow,
Little Man,
Brothers Johnson,
Nick Fraelich,
Cal Tjader,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Grey Daturas,
Roxette,
Gang Green,
K-Klass,
Michelle Simonal,
John Holt,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sister Nancy,
T. Rex,
Yellowson,
Joensuu 1685,
DJ Style,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sonny Sharrock,
Con Funk Shun,
The Last Poets,
The Vogues,
Wings,
Siglo XX,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Selecter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swans,
The Moleskins,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Gang Dance,
Big Daddy Kane,
Schoolly D,
A Certain Ratio,
cv313,
Connie Case,
Livin' Joy,
Goldenarms,
The Mojo Men,
The Knickerbockers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Technova,
Marshall Jefferson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.