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 Tajikistan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 güiro 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 The Five Americans to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
T. Rex,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oblivians,
June of 44,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Cowsills,
Television Personalities,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Iggy Pop,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Inner City,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Newcleus,
Marine Girls,
Wasted Youth,
The Last Poets,
8 Eyed Spy,
Livin' Joy,
La Düsseldorf,
the Sonics,
The Standells,
Gang Green,
The Barracudas,
Mark Hollis,
Blake Baxter,
John Coltrane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Matthew Bourne,
Visage,
Deakin,
Warsaw,
the Slits,
The Moleskins,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rotary Connection,
Bush Tetras,
Grauzone,
Cal Tjader,
The Skatalites,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Urselle,
Saccharine Trust,
Danielle Patucci,
Slick Rick,
The Pretty Things,
The Martian,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Masters at Work,
K-Klass,
Marc Almond,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Johnny Clarke,
T.S.O.L.,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.