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 Burkina and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 linndrum 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 Underground Resistance to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Lucky Dragons,
Main Source,
Patti Smith,
Connie Case,
Kurtis Blow,
Sandy B,
Joey Negro,
Shuggie Otis,
Rakim,
The Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
Monks,
Crime,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Move,
La Düsseldorf,
June of 44,
Negative Approach,
Von Mondo,
Motorama,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Flag,
Smog,
Heaven 17,
The Doors,
Swans,
Aloha Tigers,
Banda Bassotti,
Soul Sonic Force,
Steve Hackett,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ken Boothe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Y Pants,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lindisfarne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Slackers,
Pagans,
Tomorrow,
The Young Rascals,
Hoover,
Duran Duran,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Organ,
The Wake,
The American Breed,
The Trojans,
The Seeds,
Ponytail,
The Angels of Light,
Mr. Review,
Camberwell Now,
Michelle Simonal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
ABC,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.