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 Tonga and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Popol Vuh to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Arcadia,
Massinfluence,
Connie Case,
10cc,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Slackers,
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers,
Porter Ricks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Robert Wyatt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Saccharine Trust,
The Selecter,
The Sonics,
R.M.O.,
Icehouse,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lower 48,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Sällskapet,
Mark Hollis,
Mandrill,
Junior Murvin,
Cecil Taylor,
The Fugs,
Mad Mike,
Pulsallama,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Five Americans,
Bill Wells,
Peter and Kerry,
A Certain Ratio,
Intrusion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yaz,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bobby Byrd,
Sun City Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
Scott Walker,
Radiohead,
the Normal,
Lou Reed,
Masters at Work,
Aaron Thompson,
Cymande,
Jandek,
the Germs,
Idris Muhammad,
Popol Vuh,
Procol Harum,
The American Breed,
Wings,
Minutemen,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Duran Duran,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.