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 Poland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Danielle Patucci to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Heaven 17. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Eli Mardock,
Peter and Kerry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Max Romeo,
Buzzcocks,
Deepchord,
The Misunderstood,
Gang of Four,
Joy Division,
Ituana,
Eric Dolphy,
La Düsseldorf,
The Monks,
Swell Maps,
Lightning Bolt,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers,
Gichy Dan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yusef Lateef,
Marvin Gaye,
The Fall,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Niagra,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Bourne,
DNA,
Television Personalities,
Rod Modell,
Man Parrish,
The Kinks,
Jacob Miller,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Wells,
The Slits,
Loose Ends,
The Standells,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Drexciya,
Smog,
Motorama,
Siglo XX,
Dave Gahan,
The Searchers,
Fad Gadget,
John Lydon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Procol Harum,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Slackers,
Sun City Girls,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jandek,
Franke,
Vladislav Delay,
Urselle,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.