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 East Timor 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Crispian St. Peters to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Soft Cell,
Morten Harket,
The Saints,
Parry Music,
Sister Nancy,
Scrapy,
Ken Boothe,
Faraquet,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nico,
Rhythm & Sound,
Alton Ellis,
The Raincoats,
Motorama,
the Fania All-Stars,
Moby Grape,
Royal Trux,
Tom Boy,
The Sonics,
Audionom,
The Moody Blues,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Moon,
EPMD,
Saccharine Trust,
The Buckinghams,
Pantytec,
The Black Dice,
Blossom Toes,
Trumans Water,
Fad Gadget,
Donald Byrd,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sällskapet,
John Cale,
KRS-One,
Roxette,
Avey Tare,
Inner City,
Idris Muhammad,
Siglo XX,
Nirvana,
The Walker Brothers,
The Doors,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harry Pussy,
a-ha,
Crooked Eye,
Magma,
Joy Division,
The Velvet Underground,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Altered Images,
Lee Hazlewood,
Steve Hackett,
Brass Construction,
cv313,
James White and The Blacks,
Alphaville,
Terry Callier,
The Fugs,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.