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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Pus to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Erasure,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Bananas,
These Immortal Souls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Moleskins,
Stereo Dub,
Unrelated Segments,
Faraquet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Animal Collective,
Marvin Gaye,
Spoonie Gee,
Wings,
Monks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Offenders,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Flesh Eaters,
Neil Young,
Ken Boothe,
Janne Schatter,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Litter,
Laurel Aitken,
Accadde A,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
JFA,
48th St. Collective,
Easy Going,
Piero Umiliani,
Procol Harum,
Nas,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sister Nancy,
The Raincoats,
Magazine,
Wolf Eyes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Chrome,
Pylon,
Swans,
Scrapy,
Crime,
KRS-One,
the Soft Cell,
Bob Dylan,
The Monks,
The Cowsills,
The United States of America,
Gil Scott Heron,
Charles Mingus,
Hasil Adkins,
Agitation Free,
The Cure,
Cybotron,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.