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 Luxembourg and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the punk 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blues Magoos,
Aaron Thompson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Adolescents,
Black Bananas,
Leonard Cohen,
Dark Day,
Traffic Nightmare,
Peter and Kerry,
Heaven 17,
EPMD,
Skarface,
Spandau Ballet,
Jerry's Kids,
Bill Wells,
Isaac Hayes,
Anthony Braxton,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Seeds,
The Martian,
Harmonia,
Loose Ends,
Moss Icon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David McCallum,
Black Pus,
Q and Not U,
the Sonics,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Sherman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Divine Comedy,
Skriet,
Angry Samoans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Patti Smith,
Dead Boys,
Masters at Work,
Porter Ricks,
Duran Duran,
Rhythm & Sound,
Babytalk,
The Barracudas,
Wasted Youth,
Delta 5,
Underground Resistance,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bush Tetras,
China Crisis,
The Saints,
Fatback Band,
Arthur Verocai,
R.M.O.,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.