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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Delta 5 to the grime 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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Simply Red,
Colin Newman,
Gichy Dan,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Zero Boys,
Don Cherry,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
PIL,
Gong,
Lungfish,
Clear Light,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bronski Beat,
Mad Mike,
Fugazi,
Fluxion,
Al Stewart,
New York Dolls,
Sällskapet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blancmange,
Suicide,
Marine Girls,
Niagra,
Zapp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Althea and Donna,
Section 25,
Quantec,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Howard Jones,
Rod Modell,
The Sonics,
The Detroit Cobras,
Roxy Music,
Fad Gadget,
Joe Smooth,
Spandau Ballet,
Barry Ungar,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Last Poets,
Sixth Finger,
Tears for Fears,
The Selecter,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soul Sonic Force,
Interpol,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Duran Duran,
Flash Fearless,
Yazoo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Curtis Mayfield,
Can,
T.S.O.L.,
Jacques Brel,
The Slackers,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.