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 Iran and from Salvador.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar 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 Sam Rivers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Aswad,
Morten Harket,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Robert Wyatt,
The Searchers,
Hot Snakes,
Yaz,
Aloha Tigers,
Angry Samoans,
The Moleskins,
Smog,
The Cowsills,
Franke,
The Five Americans,
Marmalade,
Brass Construction,
Bad Manners,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bob Dylan,
Alton Ellis,
Harmonia,
Traffic Nightmare,
Desert Stars,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lalann,
Wally Richardson,
The Moody Blues,
Gichy Dan,
Sixth Finger,
The Cure,
Wolf Eyes,
Drexciya,
Jeff Mills,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Surgeon,
Oblivians,
The Durutti Column,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Radio Birdman,
the Soft Cell,
Nick Fraelich,
Derrick May,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jesper Dahlback,
Arab on Radar,
The Seeds,
Archie Shepp,
Scan 7,
The Last Poets,
Harry Pussy,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Human League,
Lou Reed,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Max Romeo,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.