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 Accra.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Gil Scott Heron to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Bob Dylan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Star Department,
The Vogues,
Scion,
Ken Boothe,
Amon Düül II,
Loose Ends,
The Music Machine,
Hashim,
Laurel Aitken,
Matthew Bourne,
Panda Bear,
The Residents,
The Searchers,
Mandrill,
Brand Nubian,
H. Thieme,
Banda Bassotti,
Rites of Spring,
Joey Negro,
Barclay James Harvest,
Cal Tjader,
Lucky Dragons,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Robert Görl,
Lungfish,
The Misunderstood,
48th St. Collective,
Bootsy Collins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sixth Finger,
Make Up,
Shoche,
Absolute Body Control,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Litter,
Hot Snakes,
The New Christs,
the Slits,
The Toasters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gladiators,
The Fugs,
Cymande,
Matthew Halsall,
Juan Atkins,
New Order,
Terry Callier,
The Blackbyrds,
X-102,
Blossom Toes,
Peter & Gordon,
Susan Cadogan,
F. McDonald,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.