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 Tajikistan and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lyres record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cymande,
Avey Tare,
Sarah Menescal,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Magma,
Howard Jones,
Nico,
The Residents,
Negative Approach,
Donny Hathaway,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Motions,
Porter Ricks,
Loose Ends,
Pussy Galore,
The Gladiators,
Sex Pistols,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eurythmics,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang Starr,
Janne Schatter,
Gang Gang Dance,
Siglo XX,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Stooges,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Amazonics,
Funky Four + One,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Connie Case,
Nils Olav,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Barbara Tucker,
John Cale,
Moss Icon,
Motorama,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fugs,
Bob Dylan,
Trumans Water,
The Slits,
Alison Limerick,
Sight & Sound,
Mantronix,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pylon,
Inner City,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sam Rivers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pole,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Joyce Sims,
Tres Demented,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.