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 Netherlands and from Milan.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Agent Orange to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Young Marble Giants,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wally Richardson,
Sister Nancy,
Roy Ayers,
Cheater Slicks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Index,
Country Teasers,
Symarip,
The Motions,
Livin' Joy,
The Evens,
Echospace,
Bluetip,
Lucky Dragons,
The Monks,
John Holt,
Tim Buckley,
The Divine Comedy,
the Association,
Nick Fraelich,
Pere Ubu,
Funkadelic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sun Ra,
Audionom,
Technova,
The Moody Blues,
Quadrant,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell,
Smog,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ohio Players,
Depeche Mode,
Marcia Griffiths,
H. Thieme,
Niagra,
Inner City,
Graham Central Station,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Dirtbombs,
The Golliwogs,
Gabor Szabo,
Yaz,
Aural Exciters,
Spandau Ballet,
Severed Heads,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mars,
Ultravox,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Matthew Halsall,
Harry Pussy,
Marvin Gaye,
Average White Band,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.