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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ludus to the crunk 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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Sex Pistols,
L. Decosne,
John Holt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Frankie Knuckles,
Freddie Wadling,
Erykah Badu,
B.T. Express,
Fatback Band,
One Last Wish,
Barclay James Harvest,
Audionom,
Moss Icon,
Country Teasers,
The Residents,
Buzzcocks,
The Music Machine,
Scientists,
The Litter,
Bauhaus,
Tres Demented,
The Buckinghams,
Eurythmics,
Kas Product,
Terrestrial Tones,
Half Japanese,
Eve St. Jones,
Ludus,
CMW,
The Selecter,
Todd Rundgren,
Warren Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brick,
Ultra Naté,
Robert Hood,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Angry Samoans,
LL Cool J,
Letta Mbulu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Marine Girls,
The Tremeloes,
Cal Tjader,
The Blackbyrds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pharoah Sanders,
Joy Division,
Harmonia,
Black Moon,
Nik Kershaw,
Brass Construction,
Swans,
Aloha Tigers,
Jacob Miller,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Saints,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.