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 the UAE and from Woodstock.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nik Kershaw to the rock 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Joy Division,
Cecil Taylor,
Sugar Minott,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bronski Beat,
Gabor Szabo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Christie,
Stockholm Monsters,
Symarip,
Qualms,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispy Ambulance,
Y Pants,
Japan,
The Barracudas,
LL Cool J,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Harmonia,
Underground Resistance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fatback Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Techniques,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Normal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skarface,
Scientists,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Connie Case,
CMW,
Audionom,
Gil Scott Heron,
Procol Harum,
Babytalk,
Magma,
The Dirtbombs,
Hasil Adkins,
Glenn Branca,
The Seeds,
The Cure,
Eric Dolphy,
Josef K,
Dennis Brown,
Godley & Creme,
Man Eating Sloth,
Buzzcocks,
Desert Stars,
Morten Harket,
These Immortal Souls,
The Stooges,
The Fuzztones,
The Residents,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Smog,
The Pretty Things,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.