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 Argentina and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Michael McDonald 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the crunk 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Durutti Column,
B.T. Express,
Wasted Youth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Germs,
The Names,
AZ,
Bush Tetras,
Robert Hood,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Faraquet,
Yellowson,
Brand Nubian,
Kurtis Blow,
Aswad,
Gang Starr,
World's Most,
Agitation Free,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kas Product,
Minny Pops,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eli Mardock,
MC5,
Chrome,
Roxy Music,
Lindisfarne,
Dead Boys,
La Düsseldorf,
Lucky Dragons,
Susan Cadogan,
Bronski Beat,
Robert Wyatt,
Monolake,
Roy Ayers,
The Smiths,
Fela Kuti,
Shuggie Otis,
The Motions,
The Monochrome Set,
Lightning Bolt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Index,
Shoche,
Q65,
The Walker Brothers,
Groovy Waters,
PIL,
Goldenarms,
The Move,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Cale,
Subhumans,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Index,
Barrington Levy,
Sun Ra,
The United States of America,
The Music Machine,
Pussy Galore,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.