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 Malawi 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Man Parrish to the rap 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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
Television Personalities,
Lyres,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Selecter,
ABBA,
H. Thieme,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Electric Prunes,
The Golliwogs,
Hashim,
Fluxion,
Eric Dolphy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Davy DMX,
Thee Headcoats,
Drexciya,
Visage,
The Dead C,
Erasure,
Magma,
Jawbox,
Faust,
Lou Christie,
Ohio Players,
Gastr Del Sol,
Depeche Mode,
Gang Green,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Motorama,
Tom Boy,
Prince Buster,
Hasil Adkins,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Red Krayola,
X-101,
The Blues Magoos,
Crime,
Echospace,
Stiv Bators,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Oneida,
Black Moon,
Stereo Dub,
Alison Limerick,
Charles Mingus,
Connie Case,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Almond,
R.M.O.,
Reuben Wilson,
Jeff Lynne,
Glenn Branca,
The Tremeloes,
Mission of Burma,
Maleditus Sound,
Sonic Youth,
The Victims,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pere Ubu,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.