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 Netherlands and from Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Germs to the crunk 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Image Ltd.,
Gong,
The Happenings,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Toasters,
The American Breed,
Model 500,
Moebius,
Cheater Slicks,
Tommy Roe,
Wolf Eyes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joe Finger,
Mo-Dettes,
The Knickerbockers,
Flash Fearless,
Prince Buster,
Rod Modell,
Silicon Teens,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wasted Youth,
Guru Guru,
In Retrospect,
Nik Kershaw,
Magazine,
La Düsseldorf,
U.S. Maple,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kaleidoscope,
Juan Atkins,
The Smiths,
Avey Tare,
the Association,
Au Pairs,
Oblivians,
Radio Birdman,
Zero Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
Urselle,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
Tomorrow,
Motorama,
Reuben Wilson,
Mad Mike,
Toni Rubio,
The Dirtbombs,
Mr. Review,
Kenny Larkin,
Terry Callier,
Half Japanese,
Technova,
The Skatalites,
Parry Music,
Echospace,
X-101,
Jawbox,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Sherman,
Khruangbin,
Scratch Acid,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.