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 Botswana and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar 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 Rekid to the grunge 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
The American Breed,
Big Daddy Kane,
Babytalk,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Brothers Johnson,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Smog,
Charles Mingus,
The Slackers,
The Monochrome Set,
Parry Music,
Q and Not U,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crash Course in Science,
Pole,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Hashim,
This Heat,
Roy Ayers,
Sex Pistols,
The Kinks,
Arab on Radar,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Accadde A,
Magma,
Vladislav Delay,
Jeff Lynne,
10cc,
Godley & Creme,
The Associates,
Visage,
The Star Department,
Lebanon Hanover,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soul II Soul,
Aswad,
Matthew Bourne,
The Selecter,
Roger Hodgson,
Warren Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Laurel Aitken,
The Sound,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
FM Einheit,
John Lydon,
Malaria!,
The Alarm Clocks,
Monolake,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Roxy Music,
Johnny Clarke,
Massinfluence,
Robert Wyatt,
David McCallum,
Blancmange,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.