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 Thailand and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the crunk 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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Graham Central Station,
Tres Demented,
Sister Nancy,
The Dead C,
Buzzcocks,
The Leaves,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Gories,
Todd Rundgren,
The Slackers,
The Birthday Party,
Minor Threat,
Faust,
Thee Headcoats,
Mantronix,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Blues Magoos,
Brand Nubian,
The Offenders,
The Black Dice,
Arab on Radar,
Traffic Nightmare,
Reuben Wilson,
The Blackbyrds,
Trumans Water,
48th St. Collective,
Radio Birdman,
X-Ray Spex,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lyres,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moleskins,
Chrome,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aural Exciters,
Marc Almond,
Joy Division,
Letta Mbulu,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eric Dolphy,
Warsaw,
Rod Modell,
Laurel Aitken,
Jeru the Damaja,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ultra Naté,
Prince Buster,
Symarip,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Moody Blues,
The Associates,
Ronan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
MDC,
KRS-One,
Piero Umiliani,
The Victims,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Modern Lovers,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.