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 Botswana and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 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 Derrick Morgan 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Velvet Underground,
Tears for Fears,
Kerri Chandler,
Neil Young,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dead Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mission of Burma,
The Red Krayola,
Clear Light,
The Fortunes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lightning Bolt,
Oneida,
Tubeway Army,
Robert Görl,
Man Parrish,
Robert Wyatt,
Liliput,
Jeff Lynne,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wasted Youth,
Darondo,
Outsiders,
The Martian,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Delta 5,
The Sonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Bar-Kays,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Magma,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slackers,
Swell Maps,
Cymande,
Bad Manners,
DJ Sneak,
Man Eating Sloth,
Banda Bassotti,
Reuben Wilson,
Boredoms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Motions,
Country Teasers,
Ponytail,
New Age Steppers,
Essential Logic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fugazi,
The Fall,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Section 25,
In Retrospect,
Eric Copeland,
June of 44,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.