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 Uzbekistan and from Lille.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Eve St. Jones to the rap 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pussy Galore,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ituana,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cure,
Jawbox,
Aloha Tigers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Radio Birdman,
Piero Umiliani,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scientists,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Beau Brummels,
Q65,
Technova,
Glenn Branca,
Gang Starr,
Scrapy,
kango's stein massive,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bluetip,
Fugazi,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Shadows of Knight,
K-Klass,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bobby Sherman,
Suicide,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Parrish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Minnie Riperton,
Liliput,
Mission of Burma,
The Human League,
Jeff Mills,
Gastr Del Sol,
Y Pants,
Panda Bear,
Marmalade,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Danielle Patucci,
Roxy Music,
Public Image Ltd.,
Visage,
The Fuzztones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deadbeat,
Max Romeo,
Iggy Pop,
The Blues Magoos,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brick,
Yazoo,
Sandy B,
Tim Buckley,
Tom Boy,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.