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 Armenia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Siglo XX to the crunk 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
The Durutti Column,
The Toasters,
Bobby Byrd,
Susan Cadogan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wings,
The Fuzztones,
Soul Sonic Force,
Chrome,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sam Rivers,
X-102,
This Heat,
Heaven 17,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pet Shop Boys,
Reagan Youth,
Au Pairs,
Skaos,
Q and Not U,
Judy Mowatt,
Lakeside,
Yaz,
Brand Nubian,
Subhumans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Arab on Radar,
Anakelly,
Deakin,
The American Breed,
One Last Wish,
Sarah Menescal,
Henry Cow,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Todd Rundgren,
Jerry's Kids,
Kaleidoscope,
Absolute Body Control,
Flash Fearless,
Roy Ayers,
The Fire Engines,
The Misunderstood,
Janne Schatter,
Graham Central Station,
Dual Sessions,
Supertramp,
Robert Görl,
Sonic Youth,
Duran Duran,
Wasted Youth,
The Mummies,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Smooth,
Rapeman,
Sight & Sound,
Pere Ubu,
Faust,
Suburban Knight,
DJ Style,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.