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 Peru and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Divine Comedy to the electroclash 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Chrome,
Arab on Radar,
Shuggie Otis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jawbox,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Royal Trux,
Talk Talk,
Guru Guru,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hardrive,
Agent Orange,
New York Dolls,
Juan Atkins,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stetsasonic,
Second Layer,
the Sonics,
Pylon,
Subhumans,
CMW,
Minnie Riperton,
Yusef Lateef,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Animal Collective,
Intrusion,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Görl,
Sun Ra,
Peter and Kerry,
Mandrill,
Magma,
Jacques Brel,
R.M.O.,
The Blues Magoos,
Gong,
Skarface,
Sonic Youth,
Stereo Dub,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Coltrane,
The Shadows of Knight,
Agitation Free,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Aural Exciters,
F. McDonald,
KRS-One,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eurythmics,
The Names,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nik Kershaw,
Masters at Work,
The Real Kids,
Amon Düül II,
Laurel Aitken,
Lalo Schifrin,
Swans,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.