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 Austria and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kool Moe Dee to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Fania All-Stars,
Arab on Radar,
Gang of Four,
Masters at Work,
One Last Wish,
Hoover,
The Motions,
The Gladiators,
The Neon Judgement,
June of 44,
Cybotron,
Moebius,
Spoonie Gee,
Au Pairs,
The Star Department,
Goldenarms,
The Monochrome Set,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Bar-Kays,
Slave,
Amazonics,
Tres Demented,
Donny Hathaway,
The Toasters,
Barrington Levy,
Minor Threat,
Mantronix,
Icehouse,
Y Pants,
Severed Heads,
The Tremeloes,
E-Dancer,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Pretty Things,
Chris & Cosey,
X-102,
Thompson Twins,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultra Naté,
Joensuu 1685,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Man Eating Sloth,
Talk Talk,
Peter & Gordon,
KRS-One,
The Beau Brummels,
The Mojo Men,
Flipper,
Underground Resistance,
Second Layer,
The Offenders,
The Real Kids,
Ponytail,
Eddi Front,
Barry Ungar,
Morten Harket,
Aaron Thompson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.