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 Haiti and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer 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 The Beau Brummels to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Simply Red,
Sister Nancy,
Bluetip,
Erasure,
The Knickerbockers,
Technova,
Lindisfarne,
The United States of America,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Minny Pops,
The Wake,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Royal Trux,
Grauzone,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Prince Buster,
The Red Krayola,
Zapp,
Spandau Ballet,
The Count Five,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
John Coltrane,
Monks,
June of 44,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Crime,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Searchers,
Urselle,
Porter Ricks,
The Smoke,
The Five Americans,
Sonic Youth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Morten Harket,
Alton Ellis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jacques Brel,
DJ Sneak,
Rufus Thomas,
Das Ding,
Juan Atkins,
Althea and Donna,
Godley & Creme,
The Evens,
Flamin' Groovies,
Joy Division,
Nas,
Henry Cow,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Pus,
Surgeon,
the Bar-Kays,
Davy DMX,
Glenn Branca,
cv313,
MDC,
The Litter,
John Cale,
UT,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.