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 Egypt and from Johannesburg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Hasil Adkins,
Chris & Cosey,
Avey Tare,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dead Boys,
Roxette,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Sonics,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker,
Dennis Brown,
Jandek,
a-ha,
Moby Grape,
Pulsallama,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Loose Ends,
Inner City,
H. Thieme,
Lyres,
The Selecter,
Soulsonic Force,
Sight & Sound,
Tom Boy,
the Association,
Jacques Brel,
Smog,
Tim Buckley,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Saccharine Trust,
Public Enemy,
Outsiders,
Swell Maps,
Fatback Band,
Warsaw,
David Axelrod,
Danielle Patucci,
Bootsy Collins,
Dark Day,
Eden Ahbez,
Infiniti,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nick Fraelich,
Television Personalities,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Fear,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Zeros,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.