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 Algeria and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb 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 Pole to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Wire,
Eli Mardock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Young Marble Giants,
The Mojo Men,
Bauhaus,
Khruangbin,
Urselle,
The Gladiators,
Ohio Players,
Little Man,
Maurizio,
Panda Bear,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
Oneida,
Jacques Brel,
Goldenarms,
Interpol,
Youth Brigade,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fall,
The Blues Magoos,
The New Christs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aswad,
Thee Headcoats,
The Angels of Light,
ABBA,
June of 44,
Bootsy Collins,
FM Einheit,
Gang of Four,
Alice Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
The Happenings,
John Cale,
Grauzone,
Steve Hackett,
The Index,
Yaz,
Nirvana,
Nick Fraelich,
Suburban Knight,
Rotary Connection,
Derrick Morgan,
U.S. Maple,
The Vogues,
Albert Ayler,
DNA,
Terry Callier,
Minor Threat,
The Searchers,
Eddi Front,
Sex Pistols,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DJ Style,
Charles Mingus,
Erasure,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.