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 Eritrea and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Rites of Spring to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Smog,
Laurel Aitken,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
London Community Gospel Choir,
David Axelrod,
DNA,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joey Negro,
David Bowie,
Ice-T,
Severed Heads,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantaleimon,
Harmonia,
Visage,
The Searchers,
Babytalk,
Ronan,
Rakim,
Reuben Wilson,
Max Romeo,
Clear Light,
Rites of Spring,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Icehouse,
Slick Rick,
Rufus Thomas,
Second Layer,
Susan Cadogan,
Kurtis Blow,
L. Decosne,
James White and The Blacks,
Pole,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Seeds,
Parry Music,
Wings,
Urselle,
Letta Mbulu,
The Pop Group,
June of 44,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Banda Bassotti,
The Martian,
New Order,
The Litter,
The Kinks,
DJ Style,
Boredoms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Soft Cell,
Rosa Yemen,
One Last Wish,
Glenn Branca,
Prince Buster,
The Blackbyrds,
David McCallum,
the Slits,
Ituana,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.