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 Jamaica and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Minutemen 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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wire,
Charles Mingus,
Marc Almond,
Gregory Isaacs,
The New Christs,
Hot Snakes,
Faust,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Slits,
Scientists,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tres Demented,
Man Eating Sloth,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Swans,
The Cure,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gerry Rafferty,
Whodini,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Q65,
Sex Pistols,
Public Enemy,
Supertramp,
The Star Department,
Ornette Coleman,
The Doobie Brothers,
Infiniti,
Black Flag,
Mission of Burma,
Todd Terry,
Donald Byrd,
The Divine Comedy,
Scratch Acid,
Brick,
Minor Threat,
Gong,
Gil Scott Heron,
Niagra,
Prince Buster,
Minnie Riperton,
Alphaville,
Schoolly D,
the Normal,
Ice-T,
Eric Dolphy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Neil Young,
Accadde A,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Silicon Teens,
Gang Starr,
June of 44,
Crash Course in Science,
Aloha Tigers,
Moebius,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.