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 Vietnam and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Gerry Rafferty to the disco 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Masters at Work,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Laurel Aitken,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Donny Hathaway,
Quantec,
Suburban Knight,
The Index,
Qualms,
Mars,
Fat Boys,
Oblivians,
The Leaves,
Depeche Mode,
Black Pus,
Mark Hollis,
Flipper,
Technova,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sarah Menescal,
The Angels of Light,
Loose Ends,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vladislav Delay,
Gang Green,
Supertramp,
Maurizio,
Pet Shop Boys,
The United States of America,
Dual Sessions,
Angry Samoans,
Severed Heads,
Radiopuhelimet,
Reagan Youth,
The Beau Brummels,
Tears for Fears,
Sparks,
Black Flag,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lungfish,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Young Rascals,
Bob Dylan,
Rod Modell,
The Human League,
The Busters,
In Retrospect,
Lindisfarne,
DJ Sneak,
Marine Girls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Das Ding,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Los Fastidios,
Darondo,
Susan Cadogan,
Radio Birdman,
June of 44,
Kerri Chandler,
The Electric Prunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.