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 Iceland and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Porter Ricks to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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 Detroit Cobras,
Aaron Thompson,
Thee Headcoats,
Pantytec,
Fad Gadget,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Moebius,
AZ,
The Pretty Things,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Gladiators,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Morten Harket,
Dennis Brown,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Aswad,
Pulsallama,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
Prince Buster,
Masters at Work,
Darondo,
Wally Richardson,
Shoche,
June of 44,
Yusef Lateef,
The Slits,
Sex Pistols,
Sonic Youth,
The Red Krayola,
Ice-T,
the Association,
Davy DMX,
The Zeros,
The Pop Group,
Andrew Hill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Swell Maps,
Livin' Joy,
Byron Stingily,
Lakeside,
The Tremeloes,
Ludus,
Icehouse,
Soft Machine,
Wire,
Minor Threat,
The Skatalites,
The Searchers,
Oblivians,
Suicide,
Sandy B,
The Dead C,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Main Source,
Monolake,
Mission of Burma,
Moby Grape,
Section 25,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.