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 Mali and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Larry & the Blue Notes to the disco 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Joensuu 1685,
Freddie Wadling,
Wings,
Jandek,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Saints,
KRS-One,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Smiths,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
Siglo XX,
Au Pairs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Music Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Faust,
Newcleus,
UT,
Josef K,
Whodini,
Archie Shepp,
Susan Cadogan,
Desert Stars,
Animal Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
X-101,
Crash Course in Science,
Surgeon,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
The Young Rascals,
Cymande,
Quantec,
The Associates,
The Star Department,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Trojans,
Metal Thangz,
Black Sheep,
Donald Byrd,
The Doobie Brothers,
Morten Harket,
Ultra Naté,
Gang Gang Dance,
Intrusion,
Deadbeat,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Davy DMX,
Neil Young,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dirtbombs,
New Order,
Echospace,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.