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 Guinea-Bissau and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Angry Samoans to the disco 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
D'Angelo,
Letta Mbulu,
The Human League,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slits,
Bang On A Can,
Skarface,
Funkadelic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gabor Szabo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rakim,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fire Engines,
Black Sheep,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deepchord,
The Five Americans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Stooges,
Eric Copeland,
China Crisis,
Piero Umiliani,
Con Funk Shun,
Terrestrial Tones,
Terry Callier,
Cecil Taylor,
Dead Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Selecter,
the Sonics,
The Neon Judgement,
Jeff Lynne,
Main Source,
Bootsy Collins,
Flipper,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang of Four,
Delta 5,
Groovy Waters,
Rhythm & Sound,
F. McDonald,
X-Ray Spex,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pharoah Sanders,
New York Dolls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Yellowson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scientists,
Whodini,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Byrd,
Ultimate Spinach,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.