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 Yemen and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the guitar 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 X-Ray Spex to the dance 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Monochrome Set,
Ohio Players,
Eurythmics,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nation of Ulysses,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sugar Minott,
Surgeon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mojo Men,
the Fania All-Stars,
cv313,
Marine Girls,
Underground Resistance,
Moebius,
Simply Red,
Los Fastidios,
Yellowson,
Wire,
The Black Dice,
Procol Harum,
The Cure,
Sparks,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Marc Almond,
Malaria!,
Circle Jerks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Q65,
the Swans,
Reagan Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeru the Damaja,
Howard Jones,
Gang Starr,
Al Stewart,
Kool Moe Dee,
Brothers Johnson,
Ornette Coleman,
Peter & Gordon,
Stetsasonic,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hot Snakes,
Rekid,
Mars,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Lydon,
Godley & Creme,
Mandrill,
Roy Ayers,
Aural Exciters,
ABBA,
Dave Gahan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brass Construction,
Minor Threat,
Severed Heads,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.