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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Smog to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Lightning Bolt,
Carl Craig,
The Slits,
Soul II Soul,
Hot Snakes,
China Crisis,
Second Layer,
Terrestrial Tones,
H. Thieme,
Ituana,
The Divine Comedy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eric Copeland,
Maleditus Sound,
Crispian St. Peters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joey Negro,
Youth Brigade,
Cal Tjader,
Pagans,
Scott Walker,
Yaz,
PIL,
Boredoms,
Television,
ABC,
Fort Wilson Riot,
These Immortal Souls,
Mantronix,
K-Klass,
MDC,
Black Bananas,
John Cale,
Brick,
Sun City Girls,
Pere Ubu,
Heaven 17,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jawbox,
Morten Harket,
Bad Manners,
The Gun Club,
Gabor Szabo,
Marmalade,
Au Pairs,
The Grass Roots,
the Soft Cell,
The Searchers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eurythmics,
Bobby Sherman,
Y Pants,
The Invisible,
Tubeway Army,
Japan,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.