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 Nicaragua and from Philadelphia.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Quadrant 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
B.T. Express,
Blancmange,
The Kinks,
The Slits,
Ultravox,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Mummies,
Sound Behaviour,
Los Fastidios,
Quantec,
L. Decosne,
New Order,
The Durutti Column,
Shoche,
The Litter,
Alphaville,
Soft Machine,
This Heat,
The Trojans,
Simply Red,
Deakin,
DNA,
a-ha,
Underground Resistance,
The Victims,
Big Daddy Kane,
Niagra,
Skaos,
Ohio Players,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ludus,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
The Raincoats,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Camouflage,
Desert Stars,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Five Americans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bronski Beat,
Youth Brigade,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tom Boy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pantaleimon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lee Hazlewood,
Moby Grape,
Thee Headcoats,
Spandau Ballet,
H. Thieme,
Dave Gahan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Albert Ayler,
Robert Wyatt,
48th St. Collective,
EPMD,
Slick Rick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew.
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.