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 Guinea-Bissau and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the grime 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
AZ,
Pylon,
Wire,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wolf Eyes,
Icehouse,
Eve St. Jones,
Marvin Gaye,
The Dead C,
JFA,
Minnie Riperton,
Curtis Mayfield,
Theoretical Girls,
Jandek,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The New Christs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joyce Sims,
The Black Dice,
Colin Newman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
The Angels of Light,
The Cramps,
Lou Reed,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Soft Cell,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nas,
Gang Starr,
Adolescents,
the Normal,
Zero Boys,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Saccharine Trust,
Aural Exciters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Don Cherry,
Chris Corsano,
Black Bananas,
OOIOO,
Kurtis Blow,
Trumans Water,
ABC,
The Gories,
Khruangbin,
The Wake,
Lou Christie,
Blancmange,
Janne Schatter,
Albert Ayler,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Organ,
Patti Smith,
Rhythm & Sound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eddi Front,
Y Pants,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.