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 Solomon Islands and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Interpol to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
The Monks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Whodini,
Brothers Johnson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rekid,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Motorama,
The New Christs,
Terry Callier,
LL Cool J,
Lucky Dragons,
Andrew Hill,
the Slits,
James White and The Blacks,
Cameo,
Minny Pops,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bad Manners,
Young Marble Giants,
D'Angelo,
Minutemen,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Unrelated Segments,
The Leaves,
Chris Corsano,
Man Parrish,
Black Pus,
Suburban Knight,
Barry Ungar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pantaleimon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joyce Sims,
Moss Icon,
Bootsy Collins,
Tears for Fears,
Eric Dolphy,
The Fortunes,
John Coltrane,
Joey Negro,
the Sonics,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Barracudas,
Jacob Miller,
Massinfluence,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Negative Approach,
In Retrospect,
Wolf Eyes,
Aaron Thompson,
Donny Hathaway,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dave Gahan,
Byron Stingily,
The Human League,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Reagan Youth,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.