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 Solomon Islands and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Birthday Party to the grunge 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Suburban Knight,
Iggy Pop,
The Smiths,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Black Dice,
Carl Craig,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Dark Day,
Erasure,
Marmalade,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Moby Grape,
Ludus,
Lyres,
Harpers Bizarre,
Juan Atkins,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Teasers,
Motorama,
Harmonia,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
The Raincoats,
Peter and Kerry,
Amon Düül II,
Crime,
The J.B.'s,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boredoms,
New Age Steppers,
Nils Olav,
The Doors,
Maleditus Sound,
The Index,
Idris Muhammad,
T. Rex,
New York Dolls,
Steve Hackett,
Warren Ellis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sixth Finger,
Spoonie Gee,
The Dave Clark Five,
Metal Thangz,
Leonard Cohen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Move,
X-101,
June Days,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Section 25,
Blake Baxter,
The Doobie Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Malaria!,
Shoche,
FM Einheit,
Outsiders,
Reagan Youth,
Brand Nubian,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.