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 Belarus and from Winnipeg.
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 Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron 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 Joe Finger to the punk 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
U.S. Maple,
The Barracudas,
Nick Fraelich,
Tommy Roe,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Sheep,
Sällskapet,
Mad Mike,
New Age Steppers,
R.M.O.,
Al Stewart,
The Moleskins,
The Count Five,
F. McDonald,
Zapp,
Avey Tare,
Harmonia,
The Real Kids,
Donny Hathaway,
Stereo Dub,
a-ha,
The Techniques,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Sherman,
Wally Richardson,
Jandek,
Scientists,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Electric Prunes,
48th St. Collective,
Sugar Minott,
Youth Brigade,
Albert Ayler,
Whodini,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cowsills,
Clear Light,
Cymande,
the Association,
Pagans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
X-102,
Adolescents,
Rekid,
Y Pants,
The Golliwogs,
Tom Boy,
Scratch Acid,
the Germs,
Ultravox,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pere Ubu,
Yellowson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pussy Galore,
The Fall,
Black Moon,
The Neon Judgement,
Byron Stingily,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.