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 Samoa and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Young Marble Giants to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
John Cale,
Oneida,
Tom Boy,
Juan Atkins,
New York Dolls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Public Image Ltd.,
Alison Limerick,
Ash Ra Tempel,
A Certain Ratio,
Con Funk Shun,
Jandek,
The Stooges,
Byron Stingily,
PIL,
Wasted Youth,
Yazoo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Intrusion,
Andrew Hill,
Fela Kuti,
Unrelated Segments,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Red Krayola,
E-Dancer,
Derrick May,
Letta Mbulu,
Underground Resistance,
Roxy Music,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arcadia,
Sixth Finger,
Joey Negro,
David McCallum,
Leonard Cohen,
Susan Cadogan,
the Soft Cell,
The Dead C,
cv313,
Judy Mowatt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jeff Mills,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bang On A Can,
Gong,
Skriet,
U.S. Maple,
Mission of Burma,
Black Sheep,
Qualms,
Tres Demented,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Almond,
Jacques Brel,
Soul Sonic Force,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Görl,
Davy DMX,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Remains,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.