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 Denmark and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Juan Atkins to the jazz 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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Count Five,
The Searchers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lindisfarne,
Essential Logic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Doors,
Quando Quango,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pere Ubu,
Junior Murvin,
The Fugs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lou Reed,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roger Hodgson,
Deakin,
Boredoms,
June of 44,
Arthur Verocai,
The Selecter,
the Germs,
Arab on Radar,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kerri Chandler,
Dead Boys,
Eric Copeland,
Vladislav Delay,
Pussy Galore,
Spandau Ballet,
The Kinks,
The Invisible,
The Velvet Underground,
The Misunderstood,
Harry Pussy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
10cc,
John Foxx,
Rufus Thomas,
Nick Fraelich,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Isaac Hayes,
Symarip,
the Normal,
Skaos,
Blake Baxter,
Tubeway Army,
Brick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swell Maps,
Brand Nubian,
Bill Wells,
Robert Görl,
Jacob Miller,
Cal Tjader,
Stiv Bators,
June Days,
Erykah Badu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter & Gordon,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Cure,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.