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 Ethiopia and from Milan.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Severed Heads to the dance 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 Davy DMX. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tomorrow,
The Index,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dark Day,
the Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sarah Menescal,
The Mummies,
Howard Jones,
cv313,
Crispy Ambulance,
Deadbeat,
Eric Copeland,
Laurel Aitken,
Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Remains,
Max Romeo,
Fat Boys,
Lakeside,
Letta Mbulu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Susan Cadogan,
Joyce Sims,
Sex Pistols,
Blancmange,
Cal Tjader,
Subhumans,
Flash Fearless,
Bang On A Can,
Accadde A,
Big Daddy Kane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The New Christs,
Harmonia,
Y Pants,
Bob Dylan,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Birthday Party,
Spoonie Gee,
The Divine Comedy,
Sugar Minott,
The Vogues,
Alison Limerick,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sam Rivers,
New Age Steppers,
Bad Manners,
Andrew Hill,
Rakim,
June of 44,
Lou Christie,
Cameo,
The Standells,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.