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 Columbus.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba 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 Unrelated Segments to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sound Behaviour record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jimmy McGriff,
Erasure,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Don Cherry,
Dead Boys,
Sandy B,
The Music Machine,
Ornette Coleman,
The Cramps,
The Human League,
The Cure,
John Coltrane,
Schoolly D,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Niagra,
Morten Harket,
Bad Manners,
Pierre Henry,
D'Angelo,
Hasil Adkins,
Aaron Thompson,
Rekid,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Althea and Donna,
ABBA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Derrick May,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scrapy,
Babytalk,
Gong,
T. Rex,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronan,
Eve St. Jones,
Electric Prunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eric Copeland,
AZ,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Bananas,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sugar Minott,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Animal Collective,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marvin Gaye,
Susan Cadogan,
Alphaville,
Pulsallama,
Royal Trux,
Q65,
Pantytec,
Glenn Branca,
Country Teasers,
China Crisis,
Todd Rundgren,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.