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 Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gun Club to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nirvana,
Judy Mowatt,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brothers Johnson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scott Walker,
Darondo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Smog,
Aswad,
Soul Sonic Force,
Yellowson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rekid,
Brand Nubian,
Cal Tjader,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Selecter,
Technova,
Dark Day,
Sixth Finger,
Fela Kuti,
Severed Heads,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gregory Isaacs,
L. Decosne,
Can,
Marine Girls,
Graham Central Station,
Fat Boys,
the Human League,
Rakim,
Au Pairs,
Brass Construction,
Angry Samoans,
Soft Machine,
Alton Ellis,
X-Ray Spex,
Bizarre Inc.,
a-ha,
Accadde A,
CMW,
Peter & Gordon,
Crooked Eye,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Man Parrish,
Oneida,
Chris Corsano,
Dead Boys,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Khruangbin,
Audionom,
Visage,
June of 44,
The Misunderstood,
Parry Music,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.