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 Ecuador and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar 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 Television to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Bananas,
The Residents,
Masters at Work,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fatback Band,
Darondo,
R.M.O.,
Flamin' Groovies,
Urselle,
The Fuzztones,
Mark Hollis,
Skarface,
Niagra,
Drexciya,
The Blackbyrds,
Sarah Menescal,
Graham Central Station,
The Trojans,
Goldenarms,
Ossler,
Tears for Fears,
Adolescents,
the Soft Cell,
Crime,
Radiohead,
Anakelly,
Fela Kuti,
Cheater Slicks,
Matthew Halsall,
Soul II Soul,
Girls At Our Best!,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Pus,
Porter Ricks,
Banda Bassotti,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Unrelated Segments,
Arthur Verocai,
the Normal,
Agent Orange,
Suburban Knight,
The Evens,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bang On A Can,
The Doors,
The Searchers,
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Christie,
Mo-Dettes,
Franke,
Flipper,
Eli Mardock,
Sun City Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Terry Callier,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.