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 Belarus and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Charles Mingus to the funk 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Tom Boy,
48th St. Collective,
Black Sheep,
Roxette,
James White and The Blacks,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Music Machine,
Erasure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Terry Callier,
Massinfluence,
Brass Construction,
Can,
The Dave Clark Five,
Blancmange,
Hot Snakes,
Sixth Finger,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fat Boys,
Tim Buckley,
Jerry's Kids,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantytec,
Pulsallama,
Agitation Free,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Motorama,
The Slits,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suburban Knight,
Intrusion,
Idris Muhammad,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bang On A Can,
Pylon,
Scion,
Excepter,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Cheater Slicks,
The Misunderstood,
The Dirtbombs,
The Moleskins,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Fugazi,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Evens,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Velvet Underground,
Average White Band,
The Monks,
Black Flag,
Bootsy Collins,
Section 25,
Japan,
Ronan,
X-101,
Make Up,
Wings,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rapeman,
Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin, Lalo Schifrin.
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.