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 Korea South and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Detroit Cobras to the techno 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Von Mondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Toni Rubio,
Magazine,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Victims,
L. Decosne,
Yaz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wolf Eyes,
Pussy Galore,
Buzzcocks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Animal Collective,
Vladislav Delay,
Mo-Dettes,
Stiv Bators,
Nik Kershaw,
the Sonics,
Susan Cadogan,
Lyres,
Ponytail,
Interpol,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Joey Negro,
ABC,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deakin,
Altered Images,
Metal Thangz,
Grey Daturas,
The Fortunes,
The Tremeloes,
Soft Cell,
China Crisis,
Cheater Slicks,
Accadde A,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marvin Gaye,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bluetip,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare,
The Move,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Todd Terry,
Bobby Womack,
Sandy B,
the Association,
Monolake,
Sugar Minott,
Fad Gadget,
Goldenarms,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Prince Buster,
Pere Ubu,
Echospace,
Gabor Szabo,
The Cramps,
Mandrill,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.