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 Maldives and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 F. McDonald to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
The Smoke,
The Cowsills,
Cheater Slicks,
Faraquet,
Yazoo,
Duran Duran,
Ronnie Foster,
Whodini,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sugar Minott,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fad Gadget,
JFA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Suicide,
Slave,
Sonny Sharrock,
F. McDonald,
Ituana,
Dead Boys,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tom Boy,
The Gladiators,
Schoolly D,
Yellowson,
Swans,
Reagan Youth,
The Buckinghams,
Joy Division,
Malaria!,
Talk Talk,
E-Dancer,
Pylon,
Underground Resistance,
X-101,
The Music Machine,
Brick,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Moleskins,
Nation of Ulysses,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cure,
Lee Hazlewood,
Urselle,
Amazonics,
The Blackbyrds,
Gong,
June Days,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Lydon,
Drexciya,
Barbara Tucker,
The Wake,
The Smiths,
Amon Düül,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.