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 Kyrgyzstan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Derrick May to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims 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 an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hasil Adkins,
The Standells,
Matthew Halsall,
The Blues Magoos,
Index,
Loose Ends,
Don Cherry,
Dave Gahan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Erasure,
Donald Byrd,
Black Pus,
Man Parrish,
Morten Harket,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Young Rascals,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Smoke,
Goldenarms,
Ten City,
Colin Newman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Basic Channel,
Bush Tetras,
The Index,
The Music Machine,
Gichy Dan,
Mark Hollis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Amon Düül II,
Marine Girls,
Brick,
The Monochrome Set,
Gang Starr,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wasted Youth,
New Order,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Vainqueur,
UT,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Sound,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rapeman,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minny Pops,
Charles Mingus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thee Headcoats,
Pantytec,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Wake,
Chris Corsano,
Slick Rick,
Organ,
The Dead C,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Moebius,
PIL,
Marcia Griffiths,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.