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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cure to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
ABBA,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Slave,
Hardrive,
Black Pus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Swell Maps,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hoover,
Supertramp,
Derrick May,
The Dead C,
Yaz,
Ornette Coleman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vainqueur,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Joy Division,
Siglo XX,
Kerri Chandler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Spoonie Gee,
The Golliwogs,
One Last Wish,
Roxy Music,
The New Christs,
Deakin,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Standells,
Peter & Gordon,
The Skatalites,
The Durutti Column,
Rekid,
Blake Baxter,
Quantec,
Archie Shepp,
David Bowie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Last Poets,
Young Marble Giants,
Sunsets and Hearts,
John Coltrane,
The Offenders,
Stetsasonic,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Monochrome Set,
Fear,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wire,
Minutemen,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eddi Front,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry, Pierre Henry.
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.