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 Grenada and from Milan.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bremen.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Lucky Dragons to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
The Real Kids,
Don Cherry,
Jawbox,
The Blues Magoos,
Joey Negro,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Last Poets,
Bang On A Can,
Iggy Pop,
Main Source,
Gang Gang Dance,
48th St. Collective,
Josef K,
June of 44,
Hoover,
Tubeway Army,
Yaz,
Bobby Sherman,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sister Nancy,
Mars,
Unwound,
The Pop Group,
ABBA,
Grey Daturas,
Marmalade,
Fatback Band,
Joe Finger,
Hashim,
World's Most,
Kas Product,
Heaven 17,
Los Fastidios,
Second Layer,
The Trojans,
Lalann,
The Techniques,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Blackbyrds,
Al Stewart,
The Red Krayola,
Agitation Free,
Letta Mbulu,
Traffic Nightmare,
DJ Style,
E-Dancer,
Ludus,
Pylon,
Soft Cell,
Rekid,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quando Quango,
The United States of America,
Jeff Mills,
Royal Trux,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The American Breed,
Robert Hood,
June Days,
Quantec,
Johnny Osbourne,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.