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 Dominica and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Bobby Byrd to the funk 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
H. Thieme,
F. McDonald,
Mr. Review,
Ultimate Spinach,
L. Decosne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Bar-Kays,
Delta 5,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Drive Like Jehu,
Japan,
Ossler,
The Mummies,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Unwound,
Guru Guru,
Deepchord,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quantec,
K-Klass,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jeff Lynne,
Heaven 17,
Maurizio,
Talk Talk,
Amazonics,
This Heat,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Sheep,
Pharoah Sanders,
Robert Görl,
China Crisis,
Pantytec,
Magma,
Black Moon,
Juan Atkins,
Johnny Clarke,
The Searchers,
Connie Case,
Roxy Music,
Joe Smooth,
Shoche,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Amon Düül II,
Jeru the Damaja,
Newcleus,
Donald Byrd,
Panda Bear,
Laurel Aitken,
Flash Fearless,
Gang Gang Dance,
Boz Scaggs,
Eden Ahbez,
Girls At Our Best!,
Toni Rubio,
Sun Ra,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.