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 Armenia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 The Pop Group to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Deakin,
Television,
E-Dancer,
The New Christs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Jacques Brel,
Angry Samoans,
Cybotron,
Joyce Sims,
Organ,
Rites of Spring,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Magma,
Johnny Osbourne,
Black Bananas,
Sarah Menescal,
Mr. Review,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wings,
Heaven 17,
Pharoah Sanders,
LL Cool J,
JFA,
The Evens,
Severed Heads,
Interpol,
Roger Hodgson,
Tomorrow,
The Divine Comedy,
The Golliwogs,
Dark Day,
Aloha Tigers,
The Five Americans,
Minny Pops,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Blackbyrds,
The Seeds,
Mandrill,
The Cramps,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Motions,
The Searchers,
Index,
Ken Boothe,
Suicide,
OOIOO,
Bob Dylan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lungfish,
Model 500,
The Beau Brummels,
The Kinks,
Second Layer,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Babytalk,
Von Mondo,
Ohio Players,
Erykah Badu,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.