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 Portugal and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ 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 Beau Brummels to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Knickerbockers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monks,
Tim Buckley,
The Smiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
The American Breed,
Tom Boy,
CMW,
The Trojans,
Smog,
Sonic Youth,
Peter and Kerry,
Lebanon Hanover,
Youth Brigade,
Section 25,
Erasure,
The Barracudas,
The Kinks,
Ornette Coleman,
Parry Music,
Buzzcocks,
Television Personalities,
Roxette,
New Order,
Kerri Chandler,
Judy Mowatt,
The Dead C,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Todd Rundgren,
Sixth Finger,
Motorama,
the Sonics,
Blake Baxter,
Fugazi,
The Tremeloes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Victims,
Aloha Tigers,
Subhumans,
Eve St. Jones,
Can,
Boredoms,
Cymande,
Pantaleimon,
Von Mondo,
Dead Boys,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Modern Lovers,
T. Rex,
Schoolly D,
Sun Ra,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Suburban Knight,
Second Layer,
Angry Samoans,
June of 44,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nik Kershaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.