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 Panama and from Paris.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Radio Birdman to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wire,
Brothers Johnson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fat Boys,
Camberwell Now,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Monochrome Set,
The Star Department,
Camouflage,
Crime,
Funkadelic,
Nick Fraelich,
The Blues Magoos,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Traffic Nightmare,
Theoretical Girls,
Zapp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eurythmics,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Sheep,
Das Ding,
The Saints,
the Bar-Kays,
Mars,
Wasted Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Kaleidoscope,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bill Near,
Japan,
Suicide,
David Axelrod,
The Techniques,
Grauzone,
Severed Heads,
Joey Negro,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fortunes,
Excepter,
Byron Stingily,
Harpers Bizarre,
Banda Bassotti,
Fatback Band,
Pylon,
Slave,
Leonard Cohen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Foxx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bill Wells,
Pet Shop Boys,
DJ Style,
Jacques Brel,
Tommy Roe,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
New Age Steppers,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.