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 New Zealand and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin 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 Rosa Yemen to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Sugar Minott,
The Monks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Swans,
The Litter,
John Coltrane,
Byron Stingily,
The J.B.'s,
Iggy Pop,
Joe Finger,
Albert Ayler,
Bronski Beat,
Clear Light,
Howard Jones,
John Foxx,
Man Parrish,
The Divine Comedy,
Outsiders,
Judy Mowatt,
Arcadia,
Derrick May,
Negative Approach,
Toni Rubio,
Simply Red,
Nik Kershaw,
The Selecter,
Gang Gang Dance,
David McCallum,
Idris Muhammad,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Can,
Drive Like Jehu,
T.S.O.L.,
Amazonics,
Newcleus,
Godley & Creme,
Don Cherry,
The Dead C,
Sister Nancy,
Andrew Hill,
David Bowie,
Crooked Eye,
Ossler,
Lungfish,
Zapp,
Ultravox,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ornette Coleman,
Donny Hathaway,
Mark Hollis,
Gichy Dan,
The Doors,
Laurel Aitken,
The Fortunes,
The Fugs,
Icehouse,
Stiv Bators,
The Music Machine,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cure,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.