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 Japan and from Accra.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Moby Grape to the electroclash 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
Suicide,
Eric B and Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bauhaus,
Parry Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Young Rascals,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Liliput,
The Dirtbombs,
Susan Cadogan,
Quantec,
Donny Hathaway,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mark Hollis,
The Detroit Cobras,
Porter Ricks,
Skarface,
Guru Guru,
Bang On A Can,
Young Marble Giants,
Second Layer,
H. Thieme,
Procol Harum,
Mars,
Cybotron,
Robert Görl,
Joe Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
Amon Düül,
Amon Düül II,
Supertramp,
The Red Krayola,
ABC,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Modern Lovers,
Theoretical Girls,
Nas,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Television,
The Mummies,
Barbara Tucker,
X-101,
Quadrant,
Rekid,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sam Rivers,
48th St. Collective,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scrapy,
Ten City,
Mad Mike,
Sight & Sound,
Bush Tetras,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Tom Boy,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.