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 Kazakhstan and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Amon Düül II,
Suburban Knight,
Harmonia,
Nick Fraelich,
It's A Beautiful Day,
One Last Wish,
The Fugs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DJ Style,
Scion,
New Age Steppers,
Skaos,
Youth Brigade,
UT,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Q and Not U,
Tears for Fears,
John Holt,
Cheater Slicks,
The Neon Judgement,
The Vogues,
Fela Kuti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Steve Hackett,
X-102,
Janne Schatter,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The United States of America,
Sun City Girls,
Gichy Dan,
Alphaville,
the Human League,
Gang Green,
The Knickerbockers,
The Move,
The Fortunes,
X-Ray Spex,
LL Cool J,
Gang Starr,
Newcleus,
Flipper,
Scientists,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Pop Group,
Black Sheep,
Kas Product,
The Monochrome Set,
Sarah Menescal,
Sam Rivers,
Josef K,
Barbara Tucker,
Schoolly D,
Robert Hood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Anthony Braxton,
Michelle Simonal,
The Saints,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.