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 Cyprus and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Intrusion to the funk 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
B.T. Express,
Groovy Waters,
Funkadelic,
Unrelated Segments,
Minnie Riperton,
The Flesh Eaters,
Josef K,
Henry Cow,
Man Parrish,
Echospace,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ituana,
Johnny Osbourne,
Neil Young,
Donny Hathaway,
The Blues Magoos,
Johnny Clarke,
Desert Stars,
Camouflage,
Swell Maps,
John Foxx,
Pantytec,
Gang Green,
Kerri Chandler,
Susan Cadogan,
Nik Kershaw,
X-101,
Country Teasers,
Tom Boy,
Ossler,
Inner City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Todd Terry,
The Monks,
Magma,
The Electric Prunes,
Pierre Henry,
Deadbeat,
Spoonie Gee,
Agent Orange,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fatback Band,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Talk Talk,
Amon Düül,
Marshall Jefferson,
Max Romeo,
Rod Modell,
Pole,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Procol Harum,
Mantronix,
June of 44,
The Barracudas,
Mandrill,
Gerry Rafferty,
Babytalk,
Adolescents,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.