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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Cure to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
The American Breed,
Faraquet,
Avey Tare,
Bang On A Can,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Christie,
Oblivians,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Eating Sloth,
Shuggie Otis,
Aswad,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moody Blues,
Boredoms,
Monolake,
DJ Style,
10cc,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rotary Connection,
Soul Sonic Force,
Johnny Clarke,
The Monks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Little Man,
Pantaleimon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Normal,
The Litter,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Busters,
The Doors,
Magazine,
Faust,
New York Dolls,
Jandek,
Mo-Dettes,
The Gun Club,
The Beau Brummels,
Quadrant,
Eric Dolphy,
Minutemen,
Pulsallama,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Danielle Patucci,
Ponytail,
Byron Stingily,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Fraelich,
Sister Nancy,
Ten City,
Al Stewart,
Peter and Kerry,
Jimmy McGriff,
Khruangbin,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eric Copeland,
Roxy Music,
B.T. Express,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.