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 Venezuela and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the grunge 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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Excepter,
Sun Ra,
Gang Starr,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Flamin' Groovies,
LL Cool J,
Animal Collective,
The Move,
Negative Approach,
the Bar-Kays,
Nirvana,
Arcadia,
Connie Case,
Porter Ricks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Massinfluence,
Silicon Teens,
Television Personalities,
The Velvet Underground,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Livin' Joy,
The Pop Group,
Ultravox,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Harry Pussy,
The Birthday Party,
Kayak,
Slick Rick,
Boz Scaggs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Josef K,
Model 500,
Cybotron,
Marc Almond,
Alton Ellis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minutemen,
In Retrospect,
Man Parrish,
Nik Kershaw,
Sound Behaviour,
Soft Cell,
Lalann,
Peter & Gordon,
Franke,
Barbara Tucker,
Sam Rivers,
Buzzcocks,
Idris Muhammad,
T. Rex,
Grandmaster Flash,
Chris Corsano,
Quando Quango,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Das Ding,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.