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 United States and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Star Department to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Jawbox,
Ponytail,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Knickerbockers,
Sandy B,
Severed Heads,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mad Mike,
Smog,
The Mojo Men,
Sound Behaviour,
The Selecter,
Unrelated Segments,
These Immortal Souls,
The Standells,
Marcia Griffiths,
Electric Prunes,
June of 44,
Shoche,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Grass Roots,
Charles Mingus,
Agent Orange,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brass Construction,
The Gladiators,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Brand Nubian,
Franke,
Bronski Beat,
The Dirtbombs,
Pet Shop Boys,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Mark Hollis,
Duran Duran,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Hood,
Amon Düül II,
The United States of America,
Make Up,
Harry Pussy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeff Mills,
Roger Hodgson,
Reagan Youth,
Schoolly D,
Magma,
Bill Near,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Scrapy,
Sight & Sound,
Juan Atkins,
Arab on Radar,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dead C,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Warsaw,
U.S. Maple,
Mary Jane Girls,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.