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 Angola and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba 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 Juan Atkins to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Wings,
T. Rex,
Accadde A,
Oneida,
Derrick May,
Moss Icon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Last Poets,
Bronski Beat,
Ossler,
Albert Ayler,
Desert Stars,
The Gap Band,
Fluxion,
Blossom Toes,
Faraquet,
The Black Dice,
Crime,
Freddie Wadling,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minutemen,
Black Flag,
Lakeside,
Electric Light Orchestra,
UT,
Khruangbin,
Faust,
The Gun Club,
Nirvana,
Bootsy Collins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sound Behaviour,
OOIOO,
Joensuu 1685,
Camberwell Now,
Qualms,
World's Most,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yazoo,
Rites of Spring,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Colin Newman,
Slick Rick,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Susan Cadogan,
Bob Dylan,
The Remains,
Terry Callier,
New Order,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Shuggie Otis,
Laurel Aitken,
Second Layer,
Gang Starr,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Slits,
Danielle Patucci,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.