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 Micronesia and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cymande 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Lower 48 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
The Last Poets,
Lou Reed,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Cale,
Quantec,
ABC,
The Modern Lovers,
Scrapy,
Blake Baxter,
Tomorrow,
John Lydon,
The Move,
Crooked Eye,
Procol Harum,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Doors,
Arcadia,
Letta Mbulu,
Terry Callier,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cybotron,
Josef K,
The Stooges,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
New Age Steppers,
Goldenarms,
Hasil Adkins,
The Selecter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Qualms,
Technova,
The Fire Engines,
Idris Muhammad,
Metal Thangz,
Dawn Penn,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bang On A Can,
Marvin Gaye,
F. McDonald,
Inner City,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Icehouse,
Rapeman,
Jeff Lynne,
Mandrill,
Supertramp,
Aural Exciters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sonny Sharrock,
Amazonics,
Lower 48,
Young Marble Giants,
The Slits,
Heaven 17,
LL Cool J,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Searchers,
Pierre Henry,
cv313,
Camberwell Now,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.