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 Maldives and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Patti Smith to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Von Mondo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Malaria!,
Moebius,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ten City,
the Soft Cell,
David Bowie,
Junior Murvin,
The Index,
Max Romeo,
Suburban Knight,
Black Pus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ronan,
Drexciya,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Unwound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Real Kids,
The Raincoats,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
E-Dancer,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cluster,
Mary Jane Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minnie Riperton,
Babytalk,
These Immortal Souls,
Quando Quango,
F. McDonald,
Essential Logic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Godley & Creme,
Cymande,
Deepchord,
The Zeros,
Joe Finger,
Funkadelic,
Livin' Joy,
Zapp,
Warren Ellis,
Swans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fugs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minutemen,
New Age Steppers,
Scratch Acid,
Dave Gahan,
Darondo,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.