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 Eritrea and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Grandmaster Flash,
Iggy Pop,
New York Dolls,
June of 44,
Mandrill,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scratch Acid,
World's Most,
Masters at Work,
The Birthday Party,
Ludus,
Infiniti,
Marvin Gaye,
Accadde A,
Cymande,
Model 500,
ABC,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ten City,
The Durutti Column,
Half Japanese,
Symarip,
The Star Department,
The Cowsills,
The Wake,
Buzzcocks,
Visage,
Mars,
Andrew Hill,
Deakin,
the Slits,
Amon Düül II,
Chris Corsano,
Oblivians,
Brick,
Kaleidoscope,
Sixth Finger,
Cameo,
Scientists,
Joensuu 1685,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Freddie Wadling,
The Monks,
The Buckinghams,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
10cc,
Wasted Youth,
Pulsallama,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Deepchord,
Camouflage,
Flipper,
Kerrie Biddell,
R.M.O.,
the Swans,
Lou Christie,
Hardrive,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dennis Brown,
FM Einheit,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.