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 Samoa and from Delhi.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans to the punk 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Kaleidoscope,
Shoche,
Black Moon,
the Association,
The Blues Magoos,
In Retrospect,
the Fania All-Stars,
R.M.O.,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Flipper,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Sound,
cv313,
New Age Steppers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Young Marble Giants,
Mantronix,
Motorama,
The Walker Brothers,
The Stooges,
Procol Harum,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cure,
The Litter,
The Gories,
Ornette Coleman,
the Soft Cell,
Bob Dylan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Coltrane,
The Modern Lovers,
Avey Tare,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Inner City,
Cameo,
Faust,
Chris & Cosey,
Godley & Creme,
Sparks,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Christie,
T.S.O.L.,
Sugar Minott,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kas Product,
Tommy Roe,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Matthew Bourne,
Depeche Mode,
The Pretty Things,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Newcleus,
Radio Birdman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.