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 Honduras and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Seoul.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Girls At Our Best! to the disco 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
the Soft Cell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Letta Mbulu,
Gong,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Germs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Pretty Things,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dawn Penn,
Second Layer,
Eden Ahbez,
H. Thieme,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Sheep,
R.M.O.,
Joe Finger,
Warsaw,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ice-T,
Darondo,
Rufus Thomas,
the Slits,
New Age Steppers,
Junior Murvin,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
New Order,
Lee Hazlewood,
Girls At Our Best!,
Chris & Cosey,
Tears for Fears,
Skarface,
Crash Course in Science,
Fela Kuti,
John Coltrane,
Wings,
Gang of Four,
Derrick Morgan,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultra Naté,
Qualms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wally Richardson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slick Rick,
Curtis Mayfield,
DNA,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jacob Miller,
Moss Icon,
Swell Maps,
Deakin,
Niagra,
Theoretical Girls,
Lucky Dragons,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kerri Chandler,
Main Source,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.