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 Sudan and from Paris.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 New Order to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Quadrant,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The American Breed,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Donny Hathaway,
Mr. Review,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wolf Eyes,
Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jeff Lynne,
The Moody Blues,
Curtis Mayfield,
Massinfluence,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pop Group,
Suburban Knight,
Minny Pops,
The Index,
The Vogues,
Radiohead,
Lightning Bolt,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
The Searchers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lower 48,
Animal Collective,
Hot Snakes,
Malaria!,
The Birthday Party,
The Young Rascals,
The Evens,
Mandrill,
Talk Talk,
Skarface,
China Crisis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Glenn Branca,
Shoche,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Unwound,
Deadbeat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fire Engines,
Kas Product,
The Invisible,
Section 25,
Motorama,
Rakim,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Toasters,
Pussy Galore,
Jeff Mills,
Au Pairs,
Sex Pistols,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Symarip,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.