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 Serbia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Maurizio,
June of 44,
Babytalk,
Anakelly,
Traffic Nightmare,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Raincoats,
Siglo XX,
Prince Buster,
Angry Samoans,
Wings,
Marmalade,
Matthew Bourne,
A Certain Ratio,
Liliput,
Lalann,
Al Stewart,
Althea and Donna,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
June Days,
Motorama,
Barbara Tucker,
Los Fastidios,
Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Alphaville,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cowsills,
Mark Hollis,
Boogie Down Productions,
T. Rex,
The Divine Comedy,
The Modern Lovers,
Pussy Galore,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bluetip,
The Vogues,
The Mummies,
David Bowie,
Colin Newman,
The Smiths,
Jeff Mills,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crooked Eye,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Simply Red,
Quando Quango,
Porter Ricks,
The Pretty Things,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Popol Vuh,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Donald Byrd,
The Moody Blues,
Tommy Roe,
Warren Ellis,
Skaos,
One Last Wish,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.