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 Cameroon 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pere Ubu to the funk 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
The Red Krayola,
Davy DMX,
The Count Five,
the Fania All-Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fire Engines,
a-ha,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Mills,
Rapeman,
The Grass Roots,
Mo-Dettes,
The Raincoats,
Roxy Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Subhumans,
Zero Boys,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Names,
The Seeds,
the Soft Cell,
The Move,
Dorothy Ashby,
Malaria!,
Q and Not U,
Soft Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
AZ,
Saccharine Trust,
In Retrospect,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bob Dylan,
Fluxion,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pantytec,
Minnie Riperton,
The Mojo Men,
Marine Girls,
Rekid,
Rotary Connection,
Franke,
Excepter,
Slave,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Groovy Waters,
Alphaville,
U.S. Maple,
Hardrive,
The Blackbyrds,
The Music Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
Y Pants,
Blake Baxter,
Stiv Bators,
Pierre Henry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.