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 Slovakia and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Red Krayola to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Yazoo,
Graham Central Station,
Camberwell Now,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Normal,
Byron Stingily,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fear,
The Angels of Light,
Oneida,
The Trojans,
Radiohead,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Wire,
Gong,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Index,
A Certain Ratio,
Godley & Creme,
Lakeside,
the Swans,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Alice Coltrane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Qualms,
The Monks,
Cheater Slicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soul Sonic Force,
Excepter,
La Düsseldorf,
Hot Snakes,
Gichy Dan,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Sonics,
Dual Sessions,
The Dirtbombs,
The Black Dice,
Y Pants,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Joe Finger,
U.S. Maple,
Aloha Tigers,
D'Angelo,
CMW,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sam Rivers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Association,
Camouflage,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry's Kids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Grey Daturas,
Zero Boys,
The Birthday Party,
Los Fastidios,
Todd Terry,
Marc Almond,
Suicide,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.