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 Solomon Islands and from Jakarta.
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 Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
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 Spandau Ballet to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Trumans Water,
Scan 7,
The Mummies,
The Divine Comedy,
The Neon Judgement,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Circle Jerks,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Moon,
Q65,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quando Quango,
Simply Red,
Mars,
The Fire Engines,
Shuggie Otis,
Scion,
World's Most,
Althea and Donna,
Slick Rick,
Janne Schatter,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Brand Nubian,
Bobby Sherman,
Sex Pistols,
Juan Atkins,
The Slits,
Nation of Ulysses,
Harry Pussy,
EPMD,
Monolake,
Scott Walker,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Bananas,
Eric Dolphy,
10cc,
OOIOO,
Reagan Youth,
Scratch Acid,
Henry Cow,
Junior Murvin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Don Cherry,
Alison Limerick,
This Heat,
Mary Jane Girls,
Inner City,
Rakim,
The Fugs,
Fluxion,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Maleditus Sound,
Das Ding,
F. McDonald,
The Gap Band,
Gong,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.