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 Equatorial Guinea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 Barrington Levy to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
John Coltrane,
Arthur Verocai,
T. Rex,
LL Cool J,
Henry Cow,
Pierre Henry,
Kool Moe Dee,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sound Behaviour,
Matthew Bourne,
The Black Dice,
Rekid,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Vainqueur,
Faraquet,
John Foxx,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Boogie Down Productions,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
The Golliwogs,
The Trojans,
Audionom,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Monks,
David McCallum,
Jacob Miller,
Swell Maps,
Pagans,
Stetsasonic,
Don Cherry,
Byron Stingily,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Wire,
Johnny Clarke,
David Bowie,
Grandmaster Flash,
Parry Music,
Yellowson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minor Threat,
Rites of Spring,
The Fire Engines,
Albert Ayler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
The Modern Lovers,
Colin Newman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Das Ding,
Unrelated Segments,
Popol Vuh,
Mission of Burma,
Godley & Creme,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.