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 Niger and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barbara Tucker to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Pylon,
Althea and Donna,
The Index,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ludus,
Amazonics,
Kas Product,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fela Kuti,
Banda Bassotti,
Sugar Minott,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nils Olav,
Magma,
Echospace,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bobby Womack,
Easy Going,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
These Immortal Souls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bobby Sherman,
Eurythmics,
Sex Pistols,
Deakin,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Yusef Lateef,
Los Fastidios,
Talk Talk,
Todd Rundgren,
Metal Thangz,
Jeff Mills,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Association,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Radio Birdman,
Soul II Soul,
Scan 7,
Bizarre Inc.,
Au Pairs,
MC5,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
H. Thieme,
Television Personalities,
Lee Hazlewood,
Man Parrish,
Smog,
The Gories,
The Durutti Column,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer,
Glenn Branca,
The Doors,
Drive Like Jehu,
Andrew Hill,
Moby Grape,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.