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 Bangladesh and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Lebanon Hanover to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Echospace,
Stiv Bators,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pussy Galore,
The Move,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Slackers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric B and Rakim,
Iggy Pop,
Flipper,
Black Sheep,
Gang Starr,
Hardrive,
Faust,
Bootsy Collins,
Soft Cell,
David Bowie,
Sister Nancy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Magma,
Deepchord,
The Mummies,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Foxx,
Fear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mark Hollis,
Urselle,
Lucky Dragons,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sandy B,
Jeru the Damaja,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moss Icon,
Howard Jones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
June of 44,
The Durutti Column,
Fatback Band,
Mad Mike,
Index,
The Knickerbockers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Vladislav Delay,
The Blues Magoos,
The American Breed,
Ronnie Foster,
Neil Young,
Little Man,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Graham Central Station,
Tim Buckley,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.