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 Mongolia and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet 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 Frankie Knuckles to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Leaves,
Scratch Acid,
John Foxx,
Scott Walker,
Donald Byrd,
Moby Grape,
Deepchord,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Make Up,
Bill Near,
Schoolly D,
Warsaw,
T.S.O.L.,
Prince Buster,
Jeff Mills,
R.M.O.,
The Slits,
Lou Christie,
Magma,
The Five Americans,
Accadde A,
Alison Limerick,
Yazoo,
Ossler,
Lakeside,
Maleditus Sound,
Suicide,
Model 500,
Brick,
Dennis Brown,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Rakim,
Don Cherry,
Tres Demented,
Cluster,
The Litter,
Quadrant,
Bobby Womack,
EPMD,
Bobby Sherman,
Grey Daturas,
Heaven 17,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Davy DMX,
Crooked Eye,
Boredoms,
Lalo Schifrin,
L. Decosne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vainqueur,
Erasure,
the Swans,
The Music Machine,
The Monks,
Jacob Miller,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Second Layer,
Duran Duran,
DJ Sneak,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.