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 Nigeria and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Man Eating Sloth to the electroclash 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Technova record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
The Monochrome Set,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joy Division,
Soft Machine,
Aural Exciters,
Jacques Brel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Chrome,
Shoche,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Buzzcocks,
Joensuu 1685,
Josef K,
The Tremeloes,
The Pop Group,
Arab on Radar,
One Last Wish,
A Certain Ratio,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Robert Hood,
The Fall,
Khruangbin,
Scion,
Soft Cell,
Lou Christie,
Althea and Donna,
Barbara Tucker,
The Evens,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Fugs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Remains,
the Slits,
Suburban Knight,
Amazonics,
Guru Guru,
Pierre Henry,
Joyce Sims,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Davy DMX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brick,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nils Olav,
Kenny Larkin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Knickerbockers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jacob Miller,
Dorothy Ashby,
Inner City,
Tears for Fears,
Don Cherry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brass Construction,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lindisfarne,
Tim Buckley,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.