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 El Salvador and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 Dead Boys to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gories. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Parry Music,
The Misunderstood,
Ultra Naté,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sonny Sharrock,
Organ,
Eric Copeland,
Aural Exciters,
Rekid,
Motorama,
Sex Pistols,
Scan 7,
Pole,
Robert Hood,
Mad Mike,
Sarah Menescal,
Funkadelic,
The Neon Judgement,
T. Rex,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rosa Yemen,
Marcia Griffiths,
Television Personalities,
Panda Bear,
The Monks,
The Birthday Party,
Crooked Eye,
Metal Thangz,
Shuggie Otis,
Blake Baxter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fatback Band,
The Slits,
Smog,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radiohead,
Black Bananas,
Andrew Hill,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Public Enemy,
T.S.O.L.,
Dawn Penn,
Bad Manners,
Wally Richardson,
Anthony Braxton,
Bronski Beat,
Reuben Wilson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
AZ,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Animal Collective,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Can,
The Evens,
Vainqueur,
The Count Five,
The Last Poets,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Saints,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.