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 Norway and from Bremen.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Woodstock.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Black Flag to the grime 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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
The Human League,
Tomorrow,
cv313,
The Cure,
Liliput,
Infiniti,
Bill Wells,
Warren Ellis,
Moebius,
The Angels of Light,
Subhumans,
The Gories,
The Victims,
Gichy Dan,
The Sonics,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Toni Rubio,
Little Man,
Heaven 17,
Matthew Halsall,
Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Glambeats Corp.,
June of 44,
the Swans,
Sun City Girls,
The Walker Brothers,
Barry Ungar,
Letta Mbulu,
Rekid,
Laurel Aitken,
The Techniques,
Spandau Ballet,
Royal Trux,
Flamin' Groovies,
EPMD,
Bootsy Collins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Leonard Cohen,
Joyce Sims,
Max Romeo,
Wasted Youth,
The American Breed,
The Slits,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sister Nancy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
FM Einheit,
MDC,
Unrelated Segments,
Yaz,
Mo-Dettes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Amazonics,
Lower 48,
The Monochrome Set,
The Cramps,
Index,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.