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 Kiribati and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe 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 Pierre Henry to the rock 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Trumans Water,
Wolf Eyes,
CMW,
Bob Dylan,
Soft Machine,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Faust,
Lalann,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joy Division,
EPMD,
the Normal,
Japan,
Drexciya,
Cluster,
Mad Mike,
Marc Almond,
Iggy Pop,
Sugar Minott,
Aswad,
Sun Ra,
The Slits,
Liliput,
Juan Atkins,
Dave Gahan,
The Index,
Excepter,
E-Dancer,
The Blackbyrds,
Marvin Gaye,
Interpol,
The Barracudas,
The Move,
Pantaleimon,
Archie Shepp,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang Starr,
Pere Ubu,
Arthur Verocai,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ludus,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fall,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Names,
Animal Collective,
Motorama,
Jacques Brel,
Country Teasers,
Roy Ayers,
T.S.O.L.,
Isaac Hayes,
Sun City Girls,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.