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 Norway and from Tehran.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lightning Bolt to the crunk 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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Skriet,
Mary Jane Girls,
James White and The Blacks,
Fugazi,
Throbbing Gristle,
Robert Hood,
The Happenings,
Glenn Branca,
Saccharine Trust,
The Real Kids,
Eddi Front,
Hashim,
A Certain Ratio,
Infiniti,
Suicide,
Deakin,
Blake Baxter,
The Offenders,
CMW,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scratch Acid,
X-102,
Althea and Donna,
The Golliwogs,
F. McDonald,
Model 500,
The Zeros,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Roxette,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Sherman,
Alison Limerick,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bad Manners,
Harmonia,
Icehouse,
The Dirtbombs,
Wolf Eyes,
Lindisfarne,
The Mummies,
The Evens,
Gang of Four,
Mars,
The Electric Prunes,
Marvin Gaye,
The Gories,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Names,
Maleditus Sound,
Talk Talk,
Guru Guru,
The Blues Magoos,
Section 25,
Alphaville,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bush Tetras,
Jeru the Damaja,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.