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 Iran and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron 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 Toni Rubio to the crunk 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Hasil Adkins,
The Remains,
Freddie Wadling,
Ultravox,
Half Japanese,
Derrick May,
Y Pants,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Bananas,
Sound Behaviour,
Alphaville,
Gong,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Skatalites,
Minnie Riperton,
Jeff Lynne,
Television Personalities,
Livin' Joy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Camberwell Now,
Cal Tjader,
Mad Mike,
Bauhaus,
Eddi Front,
The Motions,
The Selecter,
Make Up,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fat Boys,
Echospace,
This Heat,
Skarface,
Curtis Mayfield,
AZ,
Los Fastidios,
The Divine Comedy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crime,
H. Thieme,
R.M.O.,
Surgeon,
The Wake,
Sex Pistols,
Marmalade,
Country Teasers,
Gabor Szabo,
Deakin,
Yellowson,
Monolake,
Arcadia,
Circle Jerks,
Terry Callier,
Robert Hood,
Harry Pussy,
Soul II Soul,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crash Course in Science,
Mark Hollis,
Prince Buster,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.