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 Marshall Islands and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin 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 Eden Ahbez to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
Henry Cow,
Bluetip,
Ken Boothe,
AZ,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sparks,
Mo-Dettes,
Tim Buckley,
Public Enemy,
The Last Poets,
Alton Ellis,
Amazonics,
Cabaret Voltaire,
CMW,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radiohead,
Altered Images,
Byron Stingily,
Brick,
Underground Resistance,
Sight & Sound,
Shoche,
Sonic Youth,
Arcadia,
The Music Machine,
Minutemen,
Dead Boys,
Mantronix,
Y Pants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ornette Coleman,
Fear,
Kerri Chandler,
Das Ding,
Thee Headcoats,
the Swans,
Quando Quango,
Unrelated Segments,
Isaac Hayes,
Patti Smith,
Yaz,
Eric Copeland,
Popol Vuh,
Basic Channel,
Peter & Gordon,
Monolake,
Nico,
Kaleidoscope,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eve St. Jones,
The Stooges,
Mad Mike,
Fela Kuti,
The Selecter,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.