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 Sweden and from Jakarta.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 The Invisible to the disco 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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters 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?
Groovy Waters,
Whodini,
Pantytec,
Derrick Morgan,
Skaos,
The Stooges,
Severed Heads,
Fugazi,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
FM Einheit,
Buzzcocks,
T. Rex,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Dirtbombs,
The Skatalites,
Morten Harket,
Motorama,
Black Pus,
The Raincoats,
B.T. Express,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Pretty Things,
Ultimate Spinach,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Outsiders,
Bobby Womack,
Donald Byrd,
Freddie Wadling,
Darondo,
Quando Quango,
Popol Vuh,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Young Rascals,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lalann,
Ponytail,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Blake Baxter,
Toni Rubio,
Barbara Tucker,
Pagans,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fad Gadget,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Royal Trux,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Searchers,
Porter Ricks,
Clear Light,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ornette Coleman,
Marine Girls,
Slave,
Masters at Work,
OOIOO,
Schoolly D,
Siglo XX,
The Barracudas,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.