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 Uruguay and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 snare 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 the Germs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Byron Stingily,
Marmalade,
Howard Jones,
Duran Duran,
New Age Steppers,
Shoche,
Aural Exciters,
Siglo XX,
Avey Tare,
The Cure,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
10cc,
The Litter,
The Gun Club,
Nas,
The Motions,
Country Teasers,
The Offenders,
Ice-T,
Fatback Band,
The Happenings,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Real Kids,
Blancmange,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Mojo Men,
Bootsy Collins,
Susan Cadogan,
Prince Buster,
The Smiths,
Cameo,
Reuben Wilson,
Lou Reed,
John Holt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Index,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fugs,
Zapp,
Q65,
Alphaville,
Tres Demented,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
David Axelrod,
Mandrill,
Make Up,
Half Japanese,
Eli Mardock,
Sound Behaviour,
Fad Gadget,
Gang Starr,
Anthony Braxton,
Pylon,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
X-101,
Bob Dylan,
Sam Rivers,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.