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 Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 The Real Kids to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Electric Prunes,
Spoonie Gee,
Stereo Dub,
Television Personalities,
Kerrie Biddell,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mark Hollis,
Quando Quango,
Kevin Saunderson,
Y Pants,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rapeman,
Dave Gahan,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Country Teasers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Index,
The Residents,
Pulsallama,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Moon,
Mary Jane Girls,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dual Sessions,
X-Ray Spex,
June of 44,
Thee Headcoats,
Lebanon Hanover,
Second Layer,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kayak,
Idris Muhammad,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Happenings,
Scrapy,
Depeche Mode,
Mars,
New Age Steppers,
Prince Buster,
The Durutti Column,
Alphaville,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
K-Klass,
Chrome,
Steve Hackett,
Minny Pops,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Supertramp,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Yusef Lateef,
Circle Jerks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gang Green,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.