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 Comoros and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Modern Lovers to the funk 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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeff Lynne,
New Age Steppers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Stiv Bators,
Judy Mowatt,
Pere Ubu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Max Romeo,
Blancmange,
Ronnie Foster,
Moss Icon,
Icehouse,
Technova,
Moby Grape,
One Last Wish,
Easy Going,
The Offenders,
Niagra,
Lakeside,
Warsaw,
Lungfish,
Boogie Down Productions,
Panda Bear,
Quadrant,
Gregory Isaacs,
Yazoo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Bananas,
Y Pants,
Bootsy Collins,
Yusef Lateef,
Nick Fraelich,
Jesper Dahlback,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Stooges,
Aswad,
Graham Central Station,
Unwound,
Supertramp,
The Slits,
The Moleskins,
Stereo Dub,
The Leaves,
Drive Like Jehu,
Magazine,
Tomorrow,
Flash Fearless,
The Star Department,
The Raincoats,
The Associates,
Kenny Larkin,
Fad Gadget,
Lucky Dragons,
Suburban Knight,
Dark Day,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Womack,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers,
The Gories,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.