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 Moldova and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Evens. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Khruangbin,
The Grass Roots,
Sällskapet,
Essential Logic,
The Trojans,
Livin' Joy,
Bobby Byrd,
Bill Near,
the Human League,
Das Ding,
The Blackbyrds,
Skarface,
Tres Demented,
the Fania All-Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Barbara Tucker,
The Victims,
Jacob Miller,
Steve Hackett,
Lyres,
Main Source,
The Martian,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pulsallama,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Searchers,
Pet Shop Boys,
F. McDonald,
Henry Cow,
Minny Pops,
Zapp,
Carl Craig,
Todd Rundgren,
Albert Ayler,
Pussy Galore,
Hardrive,
Juan Atkins,
La Düsseldorf,
David McCallum,
Loose Ends,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cecil Taylor,
Eurythmics,
John Foxx,
Matthew Bourne,
Blake Baxter,
The Last Poets,
Wings,
ABC,
Slick Rick,
Sugar Minott,
Crispy Ambulance,
Massinfluence,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lungfish,
Newcleus,
Sam Rivers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Stetsasonic,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.