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 Jordan and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Wally Richardson to the grime 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
The Dead C,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Victims,
Khruangbin,
Maurizio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Basic Channel,
The Raincoats,
Angry Samoans,
Danielle Patucci,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Y Pants,
Idris Muhammad,
the Bar-Kays,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Techniques,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Camouflage,
Faust,
Kaleidoscope,
Faraquet,
Gichy Dan,
Arcadia,
The Trojans,
Youth Brigade,
Nirvana,
Panda Bear,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Cramps,
Soul Sonic Force,
Albert Ayler,
L. Decosne,
These Immortal Souls,
Liliput,
Jacob Miller,
Brand Nubian,
Wally Richardson,
Banda Bassotti,
Arab on Radar,
Delon & Dalcan,
Talk Talk,
Isaac Hayes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roxy Music,
Cymande,
The Smoke,
Bob Dylan,
The Mummies,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Mo-Dettes,
Agent Orange,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang On A Can,
Grey Daturas,
Black Pus,
Roxette,
Todd Terry,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.