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 Argentina and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Camouflage 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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
The Evens,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lower 48,
James White and The Blacks,
The Velvet Underground,
the Slits,
Fad Gadget,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moss Icon,
LL Cool J,
The Divine Comedy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Moby Grape,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tubeway Army,
the Sonics,
Brothers Johnson,
the Association,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Hood,
Kurtis Blow,
D'Angelo,
Ohio Players,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Henry Cow,
Harry Pussy,
Bad Manners,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Blackbyrds,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aloha Tigers,
Alice Coltrane,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cal Tjader,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crooked Eye,
Lou Christie,
Fugazi,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marc Almond,
Joe Smooth,
Duran Duran,
Lou Reed,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Cramps,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Parrish,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris & Cosey,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fluxion,
Depeche Mode,
Simply Red,
F. McDonald,
E-Dancer,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.