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 Poland and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Laurel Aitken to the jazz 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Don Cherry,
The Moleskins,
The Smiths,
Radio Birdman,
World's Most,
Darondo,
Cecil Taylor,
Warsaw,
The Monks,
Mission of Burma,
The Victims,
Groovy Waters,
Godley & Creme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anthony Braxton,
X-101,
Throbbing Gristle,
Newcleus,
Skaos,
Crime,
KRS-One,
Joe Smooth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Cheater Slicks,
June of 44,
Scratch Acid,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Radiohead,
Siglo XX,
the Normal,
The Seeds,
The Real Kids,
the Slits,
Monks,
Dead Boys,
Pagans,
Fad Gadget,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Gories,
Todd Terry,
Public Enemy,
Roger Hodgson,
Jesper Dahlback,
Silicon Teens,
Theoretical Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Angry Samoans,
Josef K,
Bad Manners,
Khruangbin,
Banda Bassotti,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Electric Prunes,
The Index,
F. McDonald,
Accadde A,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Motions,
Frankie Knuckles,
Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster, Prince Buster.
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.