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 Grenada and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Qualms,
Wasted Youth,
Dead Boys,
Visage,
Toni Rubio,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Severed Heads,
Eric Copeland,
The Monochrome Set,
Cheater Slicks,
Byron Stingily,
Black Bananas,
Sugar Minott,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Flag,
Soul II Soul,
Erykah Badu,
Sam Rivers,
Minny Pops,
John Coltrane,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cal Tjader,
Tim Buckley,
The Remains,
The Misunderstood,
Todd Terry,
The Tremeloes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeff Lynne,
The Dirtbombs,
Das Ding,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Pretty Things,
T.S.O.L.,
Rites of Spring,
Bootsy Collins,
Ultravox,
DJ Sneak,
Deadbeat,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Iggy Pop,
Vladislav Delay,
Scion,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bush Tetras,
Fear,
Duran Duran,
Crispy Ambulance,
Oblivians,
Gang Starr,
Jawbox,
Section 25,
Faraquet,
Alice Coltrane,
Darondo,
The Slits,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Matthew Halsall,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.