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 Iran and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Sun City Girls to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
World's Most,
Harmonia,
Jacob Miller,
The Dead C,
Patti Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Busters,
Buzzcocks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eden Ahbez,
Wings,
The Doors,
The Moody Blues,
Reagan Youth,
Hashim,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Sherman,
The Modern Lovers,
Alton Ellis,
Ronnie Foster,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Monks,
Metal Thangz,
The Sonics,
The Pop Group,
Slick Rick,
John Lydon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
PIL,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Barracudas,
Technova,
Barry Ungar,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Grass Roots,
Bad Manners,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eric B and Rakim,
X-Ray Spex,
Janne Schatter,
Black Moon,
The Saints,
Talk Talk,
The J.B.'s,
Hoover,
the Swans,
Black Bananas,
Whodini,
Yellowson,
JFA,
Unwound,
Cecil Taylor,
The Divine Comedy,
Scrapy,
E-Dancer,
Johnny Clarke,
Camberwell Now,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Görl,
Urselle,
Jawbox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Agent Orange,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.