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 South Sudan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Robert Wyatt to the crunk 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin 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 marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Electric Prunes,
The Birthday Party,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Dead Boys,
Terry Callier,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New Order,
Soft Machine,
Chrome,
The Five Americans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Quando Quango,
Technova,
The Cramps,
ABC,
Laurel Aitken,
Nation of Ulysses,
Skriet,
Talk Talk,
Saccharine Trust,
Underground Resistance,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Coltrane,
Babytalk,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Stetsasonic,
The Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
the Association,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Searchers,
The Last Poets,
Nick Fraelich,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grey Daturas,
June Days,
Cecil Taylor,
The Doors,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Heaven 17,
The Victims,
Wolf Eyes,
The Black Dice,
Cybotron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Animal Collective,
Outsiders,
Eric Copeland,
H. Thieme,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Brothers Johnson,
Pylon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
B.T. Express,
Easy Going,
The Buckinghams,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.