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 Mauritius and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 oboe 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 Moby Grape to the dance 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Deadbeat,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dead C,
Leonard Cohen,
Junior Murvin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Terry Callier,
Pylon,
Amazonics,
The Remains,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cluster,
Soft Cell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Neu!,
The Fuzztones,
Cecil Taylor,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Letta Mbulu,
Max Romeo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Warsaw,
Sällskapet,
the Fania All-Stars,
EPMD,
U.S. Maple,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cowsills,
Thee Headcoats,
Mark Hollis,
The Durutti Column,
The Smoke,
Roxette,
The Five Americans,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
AZ,
Public Enemy,
Duran Duran,
Joensuu 1685,
K-Klass,
Dennis Brown,
Archie Shepp,
Talk Talk,
Marvin Gaye,
The Names,
Scan 7,
The Residents,
Boogie Down Productions,
Warren Ellis,
Anthony Braxton,
Barrington Levy,
LL Cool J,
The Birthday Party,
Fad Gadget,
John Cale,
Sarah Menescal,
Sound Behaviour,
The Index,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.