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 Cape Verde and from Manila.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marvin Gaye to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The Names,
Cheater Slicks,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Happenings,
Excepter,
Eddi Front,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flash Fearless,
Kerri Chandler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Smiths,
Gong,
the Soft Cell,
Idris Muhammad,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gichy Dan,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Human League,
Index,
Faraquet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Byron Stingily,
Janne Schatter,
The Black Dice,
Dead Boys,
This Heat,
Bill Wells,
Boredoms,
Eric Copeland,
Kas Product,
Franke,
The Durutti Column,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
In Retrospect,
Das Ding,
The Techniques,
The Golliwogs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vainqueur,
Fela Kuti,
New Age Steppers,
Henry Cow,
Black Moon,
The Gladiators,
Robert Wyatt,
The Count Five,
FM Einheit,
Simply Red,
Main Source,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Letta Mbulu,
The Monks,
The J.B.'s,
Jawbox,
Bang On A Can,
Basic Channel,
Maleditus Sound,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.