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 Malawi and from Madrid.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Porter Ricks to the jazz 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Minor Threat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jesper Dahlback,
Trumans Water,
Nico,
Desert Stars,
Magazine,
The Fuzztones,
Procol Harum,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Wally Richardson,
June Days,
Rhythm & Sound,
Con Funk Shun,
Sexual Harrassment,
Blossom Toes,
Ponytail,
Bobby Byrd,
The Slits,
Bush Tetras,
Royal Trux,
Deepchord,
Erykah Badu,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Big Daddy Kane,
Angry Samoans,
CMW,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
These Immortal Souls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Symarip,
Skriet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Accadde A,
Terry Callier,
Gastr Del Sol,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nirvana,
Intrusion,
ABBA,
Moss Icon,
Delta 5,
Don Cherry,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dave Gahan,
Sam Rivers,
Livin' Joy,
Barclay James Harvest,
X-102,
Tomorrow,
Scratch Acid,
Barbara Tucker,
KRS-One,
The Gladiators,
Matthew Bourne,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.