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 Croatia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Jimmy McGriff to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All CMW tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lou Christie,
The Tremeloes,
Minutemen,
Gang of Four,
Maurizio,
Khruangbin,
Joe Finger,
Bill Wells,
Lucky Dragons,
The Slackers,
Althea and Donna,
Massinfluence,
Alison Limerick,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Blossom Toes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kevin Saunderson,
Cal Tjader,
Dead Boys,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Smoke,
China Crisis,
The Moleskins,
Q and Not U,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Supertramp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Royal Trux,
The Cowsills,
The Gories,
Dark Day,
Inner City,
Oneida,
The Dead C,
Dual Sessions,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blake Baxter,
Section 25,
Brand Nubian,
Fatback Band,
Whodini,
A Certain Ratio,
The Remains,
Au Pairs,
Pantytec,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
New York Dolls,
Swans,
Kas Product,
Anthony Braxton,
Freddie Wadling,
One Last Wish,
Reuben Wilson,
the Human League,
Smog,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.