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 Romania and from Portland.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The J.B.'s to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
Marc Almond,
Nas,
The Neon Judgement,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
K-Klass,
Los Fastidios,
X-Ray Spex,
Young Marble Giants,
Supertramp,
Arcadia,
John Holt,
the Association,
Section 25,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roger Hodgson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Walker Brothers,
Bad Manners,
Glenn Branca,
Yaz,
The Trojans,
FM Einheit,
Pantytec,
Sparks,
The Index,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fela Kuti,
Black Sheep,
The Mummies,
Audionom,
Frankie Knuckles,
Buzzcocks,
Steve Hackett,
Infiniti,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Arab on Radar,
Johnny Osbourne,
Intrusion,
Iggy Pop,
Ralphi Rosario,
Henry Cow,
The Pretty Things,
Boredoms,
DNA,
Bobby Womack,
Suicide,
Alison Limerick,
Minutemen,
Desert Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pierre Henry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Radio Birdman,
Lakeside,
Mission of Burma,
Mark Hollis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.