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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar 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 E-Dancer to the funk 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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Technova tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Scratch Acid,
Kevin Saunderson,
Oblivians,
New York Dolls,
Mandrill,
This Heat,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Yellowson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bootsy Collins,
Avey Tare,
Mark Hollis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Banda Bassotti,
Stockholm Monsters,
Davy DMX,
Curtis Mayfield,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
JFA,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Association,
Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Boredoms,
Arthur Verocai,
Mars,
PIL,
H. Thieme,
Laurel Aitken,
The Motions,
The Selecter,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scott Walker,
AZ,
Adolescents,
Gerry Rafferty,
Anthony Braxton,
Byron Stingily,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mad Mike,
Derrick May,
Minnie Riperton,
Half Japanese,
Dawn Penn,
Soft Cell,
DJ Style,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Donald Byrd,
Fad Gadget,
Angry Samoans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Average White Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Tremeloes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pierre Henry,
The Invisible,
Bobby Womack,
T.S.O.L.,
The Monochrome Set,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.