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 Lagos.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Walker Brothers to the rap 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Angry Samoans,
Skaos,
Arthur Verocai,
Warren Ellis,
The Searchers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Carl Craig,
Laurel Aitken,
Adolescents,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang Starr,
Aswad,
The Cowsills,
Tres Demented,
Intrusion,
Cluster,
Ronan,
Lalann,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Barclay James Harvest,
Subhumans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Last Poets,
Crime,
David McCallum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cameo,
Fluxion,
Black Sheep,
Main Source,
T. Rex,
Brand Nubian,
Rhythm & Sound,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Sherman,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric Copeland,
Television,
Camberwell Now,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boz Scaggs,
Dual Sessions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Qualms,
Robert Wyatt,
Duran Duran,
Skarface,
Bauhaus,
Negative Approach,
Lungfish,
Guru Guru,
Accadde A,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sugar Minott,
Joy Division,
Massinfluence,
Hasil Adkins,
Aloha Tigers,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.