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 Guinea-Bissau and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lakeside record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Black Sheep,
David Bowie,
Barbara Tucker,
Rekid,
Crooked Eye,
Goldenarms,
Ten City,
the Human League,
Schoolly D,
Subhumans,
Zapp,
Youth Brigade,
Talk Talk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Gap Band,
Lower 48,
Neil Young,
OOIOO,
Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Searchers,
The Victims,
Scrapy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Adolescents,
Vainqueur,
Fat Boys,
Bizarre Inc.,
Camberwell Now,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cameo,
Television,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harry Pussy,
Hot Snakes,
Monks,
Charles Mingus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brick,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hasil Adkins,
Morten Harket,
Y Pants,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Moon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radio Birdman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cheater Slicks,
Gong,
Soft Machine,
The Slits,
Half Japanese,
The Knickerbockers,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Shuggie Otis,
Electric Prunes,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.