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 Dominica and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 American Breed to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Selecter,
Laurel Aitken,
Whodini,
Gang Starr,
the Association,
Arthur Verocai,
Wally Richardson,
Scan 7,
Joe Finger,
Sister Nancy,
Nas,
Sarah Menescal,
Nirvana,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Green,
Eric B and Rakim,
Reagan Youth,
Harry Pussy,
Vainqueur,
The Blues Magoos,
The Seeds,
Angry Samoans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mission of Burma,
Kayak,
The Fire Engines,
Desert Stars,
Fluxion,
Bush Tetras,
Patti Smith,
Marine Girls,
The Gap Band,
Andrew Hill,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Chris & Cosey,
Frankie Knuckles,
Radiohead,
Flash Fearless,
Pagans,
Todd Terry,
The New Christs,
Chris Corsano,
The Human League,
The Blackbyrds,
Mad Mike,
Derrick Morgan,
The Beau Brummels,
The Evens,
the Human League,
Index,
These Immortal Souls,
Ronan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Howard Jones,
Skaos,
Icehouse,
ABBA,
Pole,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.