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 Ivory Coast and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rites of Spring to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fugs,
Arcadia,
Brand Nubian,
Hashim,
The Pretty Things,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Max Romeo,
Swell Maps,
the Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Sheep,
Banda Bassotti,
Ice-T,
Skaos,
Pulsallama,
Bob Dylan,
Roger Hodgson,
Sonic Youth,
The Kinks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Von Mondo,
Absolute Body Control,
Monks,
Cluster,
The Neon Judgement,
CMW,
Lebanon Hanover,
Brass Construction,
X-102,
Ponytail,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Sherman,
Smog,
Interpol,
China Crisis,
Mission of Burma,
A Certain Ratio,
The Smiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vainqueur,
Mantronix,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
One Last Wish,
Bobby Byrd,
In Retrospect,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Derrick Morgan,
Janne Schatter,
Funkadelic,
The Five Americans,
Fluxion,
Bush Tetras,
Todd Rundgren,
Theoretical Girls,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.