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 Lesotho and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Vogues to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar 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 guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Panda Bear,
Moby Grape,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sound Behaviour,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Barracudas,
Ice-T,
Boz Scaggs,
Minor Threat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Whodini,
Rapeman,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gang of Four,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Stetsasonic,
New York Dolls,
The Knickerbockers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
a-ha,
New Age Steppers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ituana,
The Pop Group,
Grauzone,
Eli Mardock,
Prince Buster,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cheater Slicks,
Max Romeo,
The Raincoats,
Jeru the Damaja,
Television,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
Peter and Kerry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soft Machine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Soft Cell,
Subhumans,
Ponytail,
Joe Finger,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Curtis Mayfield,
PIL,
H. Thieme,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fear,
The Leaves,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Motions,
Kerrie Biddell,
Byron Stingily,
Robert Wyatt,
Eric Dolphy,
Talk Talk,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.