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 Zambia and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Shanghai.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Eurythmics to the grunge 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Cymande,
Drive Like Jehu,
Warren Ellis,
Blake Baxter,
Bush Tetras,
Scrapy,
Malaria!,
Gang of Four,
Crime,
Wasted Youth,
David Bowie,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pole,
Vladislav Delay,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Prince Buster,
Mo-Dettes,
Funky Four + One,
Neil Young,
David McCallum,
Soul Sonic Force,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sun City Girls,
Dawn Penn,
Kaleidoscope,
Hardrive,
Skarface,
The Gladiators,
The Litter,
Gichy Dan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Monks,
Sister Nancy,
The Durutti Column,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joy Division,
Bang On A Can,
Subhumans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Outsiders,
The Smiths,
Audionom,
La Düsseldorf,
OOIOO,
John Coltrane,
Pierre Henry,
Eurythmics,
Bob Dylan,
The Slackers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Blackbyrds,
Moss Icon,
Pussy Galore,
Barbara Tucker,
Newcleus,
Desert Stars,
PIL,
Howard Jones,
The Music Machine,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.