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 India and from Seoul.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Real Kids to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hashim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Deakin,
K-Klass,
Spoonie Gee,
Brass Construction,
Hoover,
Lakeside,
Fluxion,
Blancmange,
Brick,
Lyres,
The Moody Blues,
Depeche Mode,
John Coltrane,
Fela Kuti,
Severed Heads,
The Fuzztones,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
U.S. Maple,
Jacob Miller,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Walker Brothers,
One Last Wish,
E-Dancer,
Dead Boys,
Henry Cow,
Davy DMX,
Jawbox,
Sonic Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Doors,
Ken Boothe,
Sly & The Family Stone,
DJ Style,
The Cramps,
Anthony Braxton,
Scott Walker,
Byron Stingily,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Magma,
World's Most,
Rekid,
The Dave Clark Five,
Susan Cadogan,
Dorothy Ashby,
MC5,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Theoretical Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Christie,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott Heron,
ABBA,
New York Dolls,
the Bar-Kays,
Essential Logic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pere Ubu,
Bob Dylan,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.