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 Germany and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Alice Coltrane to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Deakin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Inner City,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scientists,
Scan 7,
Nirvana,
Stereo Dub,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lower 48,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mr. Review,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gong,
Agent Orange,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Standells,
Suicide,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Brass Construction,
Althea and Donna,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ronnie Foster,
Peter & Gordon,
Groovy Waters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The American Breed,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Zero Boys,
The Zeros,
Subhumans,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Oneida,
The Smoke,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ohio Players,
Cameo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Skaos,
Mark Hollis,
Khruangbin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Glenn Branca,
The Last Poets,
Fat Boys,
Skriet,
Gang of Four,
The Dead C,
Mad Mike,
Schoolly D,
Yusef Lateef,
The Fall,
Delon & Dalcan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jimmy McGriff,
Clear Light,
Technova,
Crispy Ambulance,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.