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 Cyprus and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Josef K,
The Litter,
Zapp,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
T. Rex,
Traffic Nightmare,
EPMD,
Matthew Bourne,
Pussy Galore,
Royal Trux,
T.S.O.L.,
Popol Vuh,
The Slits,
New Age Steppers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sonny Sharrock,
Soulsonic Force,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boredoms,
Henry Cow,
Index,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sandy B,
The Gories,
Reagan Youth,
Black Flag,
Arthur Verocai,
Jacques Brel,
Janne Schatter,
Sparks,
Lindisfarne,
These Immortal Souls,
Ten City,
Nik Kershaw,
Blancmange,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Flamin' Groovies,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Bananas,
Boogie Down Productions,
Flash Fearless,
The Kinks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Make Up,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Model 500,
Camouflage,
Sun City Girls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joyce Sims,
Electric Prunes,
Infiniti,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Au Pairs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
In Retrospect,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.