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 Portland.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Velvet Underground to the techno 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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Eve St. Jones,
The Durutti Column,
Eric Copeland,
Sex Pistols,
B.T. Express,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Lydon,
the Normal,
Cheater Slicks,
Amon Düül,
The Trojans,
Sonny Sharrock,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Monks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Junior Murvin,
Second Layer,
Susan Cadogan,
PIL,
The Gladiators,
Minnie Riperton,
Johnny Clarke,
T. Rex,
Banda Bassotti,
The Knickerbockers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pantytec,
Mo-Dettes,
The Toasters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kurtis Blow,
Camouflage,
Scion,
Gil Scott Heron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Piero Umiliani,
Archie Shepp,
JFA,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Whodini,
The Stooges,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
UT,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Public Enemy,
Peter & Gordon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The J.B.'s,
Visage,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Janne Schatter,
Anakelly,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.