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 Kyrgyzstan and from Edmonton.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Marcia Griffiths to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
The Velvet Underground,
Tres Demented,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blossom Toes,
Country Teasers,
Fat Boys,
Scratch Acid,
The Five Americans,
Amazonics,
Stetsasonic,
Trumans Water,
Bad Manners,
Monks,
Scrapy,
The Standells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mr. Review,
Los Fastidios,
Suburban Knight,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
David McCallum,
The Cure,
Barry Ungar,
Livin' Joy,
Ituana,
The Fuzztones,
Television Personalities,
June Days,
Pagans,
Young Marble Giants,
Television,
Gang Starr,
Kool Moe Dee,
Man Parrish,
Derrick May,
Lindisfarne,
Crime,
The Pretty Things,
Icehouse,
Ten City,
Byron Stingily,
Dawn Penn,
Al Stewart,
Kaleidoscope,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Andrew Hill,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pierre Henry,
New York Dolls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Remains,
kango's stein massive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Association,
Angry Samoans,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.