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 Eritrea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the dance 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Cymande,
Malaria!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sister Nancy,
Anthony Braxton,
The New Christs,
The Gories,
Black Sheep,
The Saints,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dirtbombs,
Lightning Bolt,
Kas Product,
James White and The Blacks,
Basic Channel,
Quantec,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marvin Gaye,
Schoolly D,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Star Department,
The Trojans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wasted Youth,
Brothers Johnson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Big Daddy Kane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Goldenarms,
Thompson Twins,
Camouflage,
Echospace,
the Swans,
Rosa Yemen,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Harry Pussy,
Rekid,
Motorama,
Outsiders,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sparks,
Khruangbin,
Cheater Slicks,
The Invisible,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gap Band,
Gang of Four,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nirvana,
Aswad,
The Walker Brothers,
AZ,
Flipper,
The Divine Comedy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Glenn Branca,
Fluxion,
Whodini,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.