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 Mexico and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 Nirvana to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Last Poets,
Albert Ayler,
Cecil Taylor,
H. Thieme,
MC5,
Chris & Cosey,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
EPMD,
Adolescents,
Funkadelic,
Ultra Naté,
Saccharine Trust,
Japan,
The Zeros,
The Red Krayola,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scratch Acid,
Ohio Players,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Moebius,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang Gang Dance,
Maurizio,
Aural Exciters,
June Days,
The Durutti Column,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Pretty Things,
Bush Tetras,
New York Dolls,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Electric Prunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eden Ahbez,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Amon Düül,
The Victims,
Johnny Clarke,
Royal Trux,
Dorothy Ashby,
Buzzcocks,
Loose Ends,
The Standells,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tim Buckley,
Bad Manners,
Eddi Front,
The Count Five,
The Monks,
The Names,
Alphaville,
Todd Terry,
Fatback Band,
DJ Sneak,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.