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 Mexico and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Babytalk,
Harry Pussy,
Scott Walker,
The Pretty Things,
The Barracudas,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sun Ra,
Neu!,
Cluster,
The Motions,
Donald Byrd,
Blake Baxter,
Wally Richardson,
Terry Callier,
Organ,
Robert Görl,
Yellowson,
DJ Style,
Crime,
CMW,
The Slackers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Electric Prunes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slick Rick,
Stereo Dub,
Mad Mike,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Chris Corsano,
Blossom Toes,
Y Pants,
The Angels of Light,
Lungfish,
Aaron Thompson,
Peter and Kerry,
Matthew Halsall,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lucky Dragons,
Little Man,
The New Christs,
Tommy Roe,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Smog,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dark Day,
The Real Kids,
Ituana,
The Invisible,
Suicide,
Spandau Ballet,
Half Japanese,
Public Image Ltd.,
Con Funk Shun,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.