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 Rwanda and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Dice to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Rosa Yemen,
The Monks,
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
Minutemen,
Das Ding,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bootsy Collins,
The Black Dice,
Barbara Tucker,
Eurythmics,
Goldenarms,
Arthur Verocai,
David Axelrod,
Reagan Youth,
Altered Images,
Gang of Four,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultravox,
Byron Stingily,
Gichy Dan,
China Crisis,
Lindisfarne,
Sugar Minott,
Pole,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tom Boy,
The Real Kids,
Eden Ahbez,
Soul II Soul,
Tubeway Army,
PIL,
Johnny Osbourne,
Swell Maps,
Magazine,
Can,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Oblivians,
Pet Shop Boys,
Little Man,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terrestrial Tones,
Babytalk,
Spoonie Gee,
B.T. Express,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dead Boys,
X-102,
Vainqueur,
Smog,
Lungfish,
Stereo Dub,
Nirvana,
The Wake,
The Invisible,
Bad Manners,
Rakim,
Toni Rubio,
Crash Course in Science,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.