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 Seychelles 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans 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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Pulsallama,
Can,
The Slackers,
The Electric Prunes,
Hasil Adkins,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ken Boothe,
Pussy Galore,
Eden Ahbez,
Pantaleimon,
One Last Wish,
Joe Finger,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Normal,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Underground Resistance,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doobie Brothers,
The United States of America,
Monolake,
Wasted Youth,
Heaven 17,
The Count Five,
Black Flag,
The Red Krayola,
The Searchers,
Faraquet,
Lightning Bolt,
the Bar-Kays,
Gichy Dan,
The Monks,
Desert Stars,
The Saints,
Surgeon,
Archie Shepp,
New York Dolls,
Kenny Larkin,
Mission of Burma,
Danielle Patucci,
the Sonics,
Steve Hackett,
Cameo,
The Monochrome Set,
Fugazi,
Mad Mike,
Crooked Eye,
Lebanon Hanover,
48th St. Collective,
Ice-T,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Little Man,
Von Mondo,
DJ Sneak,
Bush Tetras,
The Happenings,
Skriet,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.