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 Kosovo and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Roxy Music to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Eric Copeland,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joe Finger,
Siglo XX,
Oblivians,
Motorama,
The Golliwogs,
Peter and Kerry,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gories,
Jeff Mills,
Erykah Badu,
Cameo,
Albert Ayler,
Black Flag,
Sex Pistols,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New York Dolls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Searchers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Gun Club,
Bad Manners,
Deakin,
Gong,
Technova,
Deepchord,
The Mummies,
Bronski Beat,
Iggy Pop,
Freddie Wadling,
Patti Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Martian,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mark Hollis,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Man Eating Sloth,
Archie Shepp,
The J.B.'s,
Pere Ubu,
La Düsseldorf,
Subhumans,
The Angels of Light,
U.S. Maple,
Marmalade,
Alice Coltrane,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cluster,
In Retrospect,
Blossom Toes,
Dave Gahan,
Flash Fearless,
Quando Quango,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Sherman,
Lebanon Hanover,
Urselle,
The Misunderstood,
Jimmy McGriff,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.