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 Thailand and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Kool Moe Dee 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
Lightning Bolt,
JFA,
Cymande,
The Gladiators,
KRS-One,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dead Boys,
Robert Hood,
Sun City Girls,
The Gories,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Parry Music,
the Slits,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sex Pistols,
The United States of America,
Mad Mike,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
EPMD,
Half Japanese,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Whodini,
The Cowsills,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Infiniti,
The Golliwogs,
Dennis Brown,
The Flesh Eaters,
Minny Pops,
The J.B.'s,
Brothers Johnson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jacques Brel,
The Leaves,
Terry Callier,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Massinfluence,
Scratch Acid,
X-101,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Buckinghams,
Harmonia,
Bobby Byrd,
The American Breed,
The Pretty Things,
Curtis Mayfield,
Drive Like Jehu,
Talk Talk,
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Index,
Electric Prunes,
Black Flag,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Saccharine Trust,
Nas,
Sun Ra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Surgeon,
Joe Smooth,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.