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 Zambia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Depeche Mode,
Graham Central Station,
The J.B.'s,
Bill Near,
Banda Bassotti,
Desert Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Janne Schatter,
Charles Mingus,
The Invisible,
Althea and Donna,
Mark Hollis,
Young Marble Giants,
Yellowson,
The Wake,
The Real Kids,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sam Rivers,
Circle Jerks,
Brothers Johnson,
the Association,
Parry Music,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Andrew Hill,
Ornette Coleman,
Surgeon,
Peter and Kerry,
Ken Boothe,
Khruangbin,
Lightning Bolt,
The Offenders,
the Bar-Kays,
Cheater Slicks,
Fugazi,
Maurizio,
ABBA,
OOIOO,
The Names,
Bluetip,
The Fall,
Jacob Miller,
Das Ding,
The Divine Comedy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Organ,
The Doors,
Anthony Braxton,
Cybotron,
The Red Krayola,
Index,
Aural Exciters,
The Mummies,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crispian St. Peters,
This Heat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
the Human League,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Terror Squad Feat. Camron, Terror Squad Feat. Camron.
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.