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 Palau and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ice-T to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
kango's stein massive,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Fuzztones,
Albert Ayler,
Blake Baxter,
Howard Jones,
The New Christs,
Boz Scaggs,
Thee Headcoats,
Arcadia,
David Bowie,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Terry Callier,
Young Marble Giants,
Negative Approach,
Glambeats Corp.,
H. Thieme,
John Lydon,
Hasil Adkins,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Doors,
Robert Wyatt,
Qualms,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultravox,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
In Retrospect,
Soul II Soul,
Black Sheep,
Interpol,
Pulsallama,
The Golliwogs,
Severed Heads,
Niagra,
The Wake,
Livin' Joy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alice Coltrane,
The Techniques,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Arab on Radar,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kas Product,
Subhumans,
The Searchers,
Robert Görl,
The Remains,
Oneida,
Gil Scott Heron,
Morten Harket,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Radio Birdman,
Q65,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.