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 Libya and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Beau Brummels to the techno 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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Mr. Review,
Pussy Galore,
John Coltrane,
Sex Pistols,
Crispian St. Peters,
FM Einheit,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Robert Wyatt,
Magma,
Aural Exciters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Easy Going,
The Cowsills,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Detroit Cobras,
Neil Young,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Simply Red,
Minor Threat,
Pantytec,
The Kinks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pharoah Sanders,
Skaos,
Faraquet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
DJ Style,
The Remains,
Bronski Beat,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Section 25,
The Names,
Bauhaus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scott Walker,
Amon Düül,
Maleditus Sound,
Todd Rundgren,
Depeche Mode,
H. Thieme,
The Toasters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Selecter,
Minny Pops,
Procol Harum,
T.S.O.L.,
Jacob Miller,
The Gladiators,
The Stooges,
Amazonics,
Ultra Naté,
The Index,
the Normal,
Andrew Hill,
The Vogues,
Morten Harket,
Steve Hackett,
Donny Hathaway,
Shoche,
Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators, Stiv Bators.
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.