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 Mauritius 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar 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 E-Dancer to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Moebius tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Bush Tetras,
Don Cherry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mars,
Desert Stars,
Marmalade,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pagans,
Cecil Taylor,
Howard Jones,
Altered Images,
The American Breed,
Zapp,
Negative Approach,
Laurel Aitken,
Stiv Bators,
The Moody Blues,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Los Fastidios,
Royal Trux,
Lou Christie,
Eden Ahbez,
the Germs,
Ohio Players,
Black Moon,
Au Pairs,
Rapeman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sex Pistols,
Boz Scaggs,
Lou Reed,
EPMD,
U.S. Maple,
Spandau Ballet,
Fad Gadget,
Lee Hazlewood,
Isaac Hayes,
Scrapy,
Porter Ricks,
Sixth Finger,
Henry Cow,
Electric Prunes,
Subhumans,
Marc Almond,
The Sonics,
Sandy B,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Style,
Tommy Roe,
Flipper,
Shuggie Otis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alice Coltrane,
The Buckinghams,
Spoonie Gee,
Marshall Jefferson,
Faust,
The Zeros,
Mo-Dettes,
Hasil Adkins,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.