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 Palau and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Harpers Bizarre to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
The Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
Camberwell Now,
the Fania All-Stars,
Moby Grape,
Accadde A,
Technova,
Lakeside,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Tremeloes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Public Enemy,
Erykah Badu,
Gichy Dan,
Don Cherry,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Martian,
Bobby Byrd,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
Ultravox,
Goldenarms,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
Sparks,
The Fire Engines,
Lyres,
Spandau Ballet,
The Stooges,
Qualms,
The Move,
Steve Hackett,
Groovy Waters,
Scott Walker,
the Association,
Make Up,
Jacques Brel,
The Smoke,
Brand Nubian,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minutemen,
Yaz,
Interpol,
Howard Jones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Colin Newman,
Eden Ahbez,
Maleditus Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Gang Green,
Franke,
Blossom Toes,
Wolf Eyes,
Arab on Radar,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hoover,
Sister Nancy,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Golliwogs,
Harmonia,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.