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 Togo and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Smoke to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Roxy Music,
X-102,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Electric Prunes,
Matthew Halsall,
the Germs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultravox,
Spoonie Gee,
John Lydon,
New York Dolls,
Robert Görl,
Roy Ayers,
Bang On A Can,
The Buckinghams,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Au Pairs,
Terry Callier,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Moody Blues,
Pole,
June Days,
The Saints,
Los Fastidios,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joyce Sims,
UT,
John Foxx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Gories,
Black Moon,
The Divine Comedy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sarah Menescal,
Mad Mike,
Von Mondo,
Sällskapet,
Soft Cell,
Unwound,
Motorama,
Nirvana,
Livin' Joy,
The Dave Clark Five,
MC5,
The Flesh Eaters,
Buzzcocks,
H. Thieme,
Altered Images,
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
Faust,
Q and Not U,
Tommy Roe,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Minnie Riperton,
Malaria!,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.