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 Guyana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 One Last Wish to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a synthesizer 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 chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Television Personalities,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ronan,
Bronski Beat,
Kerri Chandler,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
La Düsseldorf,
The Modern Lovers,
The Standells,
Mary Jane Girls,
Moebius,
Deakin,
London Community Gospel Choir,
DJ Style,
The Associates,
KRS-One,
Neu!,
The Pretty Things,
James White and The Blacks,
Donald Byrd,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soul Sonic Force,
Livin' Joy,
Black Sheep,
Youth Brigade,
Ralphi Rosario,
Heaven 17,
Blossom Toes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jacques Brel,
Joe Smooth,
John Lydon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Public Image Ltd.,
Derrick May,
Nirvana,
Roxy Music,
Mantronix,
Prince Buster,
Lightning Bolt,
Minutemen,
The Slits,
Suburban Knight,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kayak,
June of 44,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Warsaw,
Isaac Hayes,
The Gap Band,
The Human League,
Eric Dolphy,
Japan,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.