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 Taiwan 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 the Bar-Kays to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Lungfish,
The Angels of Light,
The Walker Brothers,
Godley & Creme,
Angry Samoans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Desert Stars,
Harry Pussy,
Wire,
K-Klass,
Sight & Sound,
Von Mondo,
Soft Machine,
Altered Images,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Litter,
The United States of America,
Deepchord,
Gang Green,
Massinfluence,
Rakim,
Ultra Naté,
Don Cherry,
Pylon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Slick Rick,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fortunes,
The Kinks,
Henry Cow,
The Selecter,
Janne Schatter,
Jawbox,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kenny Larkin,
Blossom Toes,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minutemen,
Sugar Minott,
The Barracudas,
Underground Resistance,
June of 44,
Livin' Joy,
Gang of Four,
Suicide,
Marmalade,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Essential Logic,
Freddie Wadling,
Babytalk,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Durutti Column,
T. Rex,
Cal Tjader,
OOIOO,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.