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 South Sudan and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Eric Dolphy to the punk 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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Au Pairs,
The Raincoats,
Tears for Fears,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Sonics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Crash Course in Science,
Interpol,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy Collins,
Josef K,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Echospace,
Lindisfarne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Technova,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Moleskins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Mark Hollis,
Jesper Dahlback,
Q65,
Eli Mardock,
Los Fastidios,
Bush Tetras,
Neil Young,
The Knickerbockers,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
10cc,
Aswad,
Jawbox,
Swell Maps,
The Buckinghams,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scott Walker,
Groovy Waters,
ABC,
Joey Negro,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nik Kershaw,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Electric Prunes,
Jacob Miller,
Rekid,
Hot Snakes,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Electric Prunes,
Amon Düül,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mars,
Crooked Eye,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.