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 Romania and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bizarre Inc. to the dance 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
John Holt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Yazoo,
Ituana,
June of 44,
Hoover,
The Star Department,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Porter Ricks,
Archie Shepp,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Theoretical Girls,
Don Cherry,
Brothers Johnson,
F. McDonald,
Bizarre Inc.,
Audionom,
Bobby Sherman,
New Age Steppers,
Carl Craig,
The Real Kids,
Fat Boys,
Byron Stingily,
Ludus,
New York Dolls,
The Cure,
Arab on Radar,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Normal,
This Heat,
Siglo XX,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang of Four,
Section 25,
Sound Behaviour,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Names,
The Monks,
Joy Division,
Hasil Adkins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Au Pairs,
The Fall,
The Count Five,
Lightning Bolt,
Faraquet,
Stereo Dub,
Gabor Szabo,
Josef K,
The Sound,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Infiniti,
Ken Boothe,
The American Breed,
T.S.O.L.,
Connie Case,
The Fortunes,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.