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 Iceland and from London.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Monolake to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Johnny Osbourne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swans,
Tres Demented,
DJ Sneak,
Minutemen,
Pagans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lalo Schifrin,
Schoolly D,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Procol Harum,
T. Rex,
Ice-T,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Danielle Patucci,
Max Romeo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bill Near,
The Dirtbombs,
Kenny Larkin,
The Trojans,
Lightning Bolt,
Slave,
Marcia Griffiths,
U.S. Maple,
The Sound,
The Standells,
LL Cool J,
Rosa Yemen,
Nik Kershaw,
The Cure,
Rapeman,
Faust,
Groovy Waters,
Todd Terry,
John Cale,
Second Layer,
Cluster,
The Last Poets,
Slick Rick,
Rites of Spring,
Index,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantytec,
Thee Headcoats,
Buzzcocks,
The Residents,
Lakeside,
David Axelrod,
Chris Corsano,
Lucky Dragons,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alphaville,
Matthew Bourne,
Aloha Tigers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Fuzztones,
Little Man,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.