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 Senegal 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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 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 X-101 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
The Saints,
Gang Gang Dance,
Das Ding,
Kerri Chandler,
Howard Jones,
Brick,
Warren Ellis,
Radio Birdman,
Iggy Pop,
The Stooges,
48th St. Collective,
Guru Guru,
In Retrospect,
Livin' Joy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultimate Spinach,
New Age Steppers,
Rites of Spring,
The Sound,
Ituana,
The Invisible,
OOIOO,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang of Four,
Porter Ricks,
Hardrive,
Skaos,
ABBA,
Andrew Hill,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wings,
The Trojans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Robert Wyatt,
Michelle Simonal,
Josef K,
Eric B and Rakim,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Rod Modell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Slits,
Wire,
Sonic Youth,
The Mojo Men,
JFA,
Freddie Wadling,
the Germs,
Tears for Fears,
Youth Brigade,
The Fuzztones,
Tim Buckley,
Neu!,
Idris Muhammad,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Motorama,
Can,
The Neon Judgement,
Soft Cell,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Pretty Things,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.