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 Sierra Leone and from Copenhagen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Livin' Joy to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Severed Heads,
Nik Kershaw,
The Buckinghams,
Ituana,
Bobby Sherman,
The Saints,
Youth Brigade,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Echospace,
Nas,
The Slits,
The Mummies,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Gories,
Camouflage,
Robert Görl,
Blake Baxter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cramps,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roger Hodgson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Magazine,
Sex Pistols,
ABBA,
The Moody Blues,
Index,
The Fall,
Minor Threat,
Patti Smith,
Robert Hood,
Babytalk,
Arcadia,
Brand Nubian,
The Beau Brummels,
Moebius,
Pylon,
The Dirtbombs,
These Immortal Souls,
The Music Machine,
Terrestrial Tones,
Qualms,
DJ Style,
Piero Umiliani,
Young Marble Giants,
June of 44,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
This Heat,
Altered Images,
Mandrill,
T. Rex,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fatback Band,
Black Sheep,
The Barracudas,
ABC,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.