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 Saudi Arabia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Porter Ricks to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Blackbyrds,
Rekid,
Faraquet,
The Trojans,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gap Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Residents,
Roxy Music,
The Cowsills,
Ronnie Foster,
Eddi Front,
Joensuu 1685,
Angry Samoans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sarah Menescal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Excepter,
Crash Course in Science,
Darondo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pharoah Sanders,
Procol Harum,
Audionom,
Wings,
Make Up,
Stockholm Monsters,
Chris Corsano,
Franke,
Blancmange,
The Invisible,
The Toasters,
Scion,
Cameo,
The Busters,
Letta Mbulu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amon Düül II,
Radiohead,
Aswad,
Au Pairs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Newcleus,
Average White Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Magma,
The Cramps,
New Order,
Fat Boys,
Dual Sessions,
Jeff Mills,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harpers Bizarre,
Suicide,
Stereo Dub,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.