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 Brazil and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 The American Breed to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Technova,
Boz Scaggs,
Visage,
Sun City Girls,
Easy Going,
Pussy Galore,
Slave,
Moebius,
Roy Ayers,
Juan Atkins,
Swell Maps,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Blues Magoos,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Heaven 17,
The Evens,
Eric Copeland,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fortunes,
The Raincoats,
Lalann,
Maleditus Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultra Naté,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nation of Ulysses,
Shuggie Otis,
Mission of Burma,
Brand Nubian,
DJ Sneak,
The Sound,
Lucky Dragons,
The Monks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soul II Soul,
Dead Boys,
a-ha,
John Coltrane,
Basic Channel,
the Slits,
The Blackbyrds,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Finger,
Scan 7,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Normal,
This Heat,
Eddi Front,
Siglo XX,
Fatback Band,
ABC,
Hot Snakes,
The Fall,
Don Cherry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.