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 Fiji 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Invisible to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Steve Hackett,
H. Thieme,
Dead Boys,
Radio Birdman,
The Fortunes,
Minny Pops,
Warsaw,
Wings,
Supertramp,
Mr. Review,
June Days,
FM Einheit,
John Coltrane,
Glenn Branca,
The Raincoats,
Loose Ends,
The Real Kids,
Josef K,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cymande,
Bronski Beat,
Ponytail,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Index,
Skarface,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Gories,
JFA,
Boredoms,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Techniques,
Black Sheep,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Normal,
X-Ray Spex,
Amon Düül II,
Severed Heads,
Ralphi Rosario,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tubeway Army,
Byron Stingily,
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Tremeloes,
Gabor Szabo,
Scott Walker,
Hashim,
Kayak,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sällskapet,
Minutemen,
Massinfluence,
The Pop Group,
Wolf Eyes,
Roxy Music,
Mark Hollis,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Five Americans,
The New Christs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.