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 St Lucia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Jawbox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rotary Connection,
the Germs,
Flash Fearless,
Theoretical Girls,
Don Cherry,
Kevin Saunderson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Con Funk Shun,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Wings,
Metal Thangz,
Scott Walker,
Alison Limerick,
Monks,
Barbara Tucker,
Symarip,
a-ha,
The Cure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Freddie Wadling,
Man Eating Sloth,
Suicide,
Thee Headcoats,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Laurel Aitken,
Roxette,
Delon & Dalcan,
Godley & Creme,
Marine Girls,
Jacques Brel,
Jerry's Kids,
U.S. Maple,
ABBA,
Davy DMX,
The Sound,
Sugar Minott,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Maurizio,
Sound Behaviour,
Mad Mike,
Gichy Dan,
Bill Wells,
Crime,
Bill Near,
Sister Nancy,
The Leaves,
Roxy Music,
Pierre Henry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rekid,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bronski Beat,
Urselle,
Susan Cadogan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Motorama,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.