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 Poland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Michael McDonald 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 Mission of Burma to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Au Pairs,
Kurtis Blow,
Joyce Sims,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Piero Umiliani,
Faraquet,
F. McDonald,
L. Decosne,
the Bar-Kays,
Pierre Henry,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tomorrow,
Roxette,
The Alarm Clocks,
Infiniti,
Fluxion,
Pulsallama,
The Durutti Column,
Index,
The Last Poets,
Rod Modell,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oblivians,
Slick Rick,
John Holt,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bronski Beat,
Todd Terry,
JFA,
The Cowsills,
Soul Sonic Force,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Connie Case,
Sonic Youth,
The Victims,
Nik Kershaw,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bush Tetras,
The Beau Brummels,
Sam Rivers,
The J.B.'s,
Interpol,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Slits,
Saccharine Trust,
Minny Pops,
Swell Maps,
Absolute Body Control,
Crash Course in Science,
The Standells,
Fugazi,
Sight & Sound,
the Germs,
Patti Smith,
Jeru the Damaja,
Magazine,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mojo Men,
Whodini,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Buzzcocks,
Y Pants,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.