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 Tonga and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Tim Buckley to the electroclash 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Judy Mowatt,
The Martian,
Patti Smith,
Lakeside,
Skarface,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Cramps,
Junior Murvin,
Wings,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Masters at Work,
Hot Snakes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Television Personalities,
Severed Heads,
Jacob Miller,
Stiv Bators,
Arthur Verocai,
the Swans,
Isaac Hayes,
kango's stein massive,
Blancmange,
Brand Nubian,
Rosa Yemen,
Kayak,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ultramagnetic MC's,
KRS-One,
Massinfluence,
Yazoo,
Magazine,
Infiniti,
Sällskapet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nas,
Soul II Soul,
The Evens,
Vladislav Delay,
Wolf Eyes,
New York Dolls,
The Index,
The Beau Brummels,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gang of Four,
Crime,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sight & Sound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Au Pairs,
Thompson Twins,
Hashim,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Symarip,
The Motions,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.