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 Lithuania and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
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 Captain Beefheart 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 Das Ding to the rap 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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Kurtis Blow,
Reuben Wilson,
Liliput,
Sun City Girls,
MC5,
Aural Exciters,
The Smoke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Normal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Idris Muhammad,
The Pretty Things,
Make Up,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultra Naté,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Christie,
Jeff Mills,
Desert Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
The Black Dice,
Toni Rubio,
The Selecter,
The Seeds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
H. Thieme,
The Dead C,
Barry Ungar,
Interpol,
Darondo,
Erykah Badu,
This Heat,
Television,
Talk Talk,
The New Christs,
Arthur Verocai,
Gabor Szabo,
Slave,
Hoover,
The Mummies,
Matthew Bourne,
Fear,
Khruangbin,
The Fuzztones,
the Sonics,
Arab on Radar,
Japan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Kinks,
Yellowson,
Icehouse,
Mad Mike,
The Mojo Men,
FM Einheit,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jacques Brel,
Chrome,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.