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 Albania and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Charles Mingus to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Dorothy Ashby,
Isaac Hayes,
Index,
The Pretty Things,
Rakim,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare,
Delta 5,
Heaven 17,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Yazoo,
These Immortal Souls,
Bob Dylan,
The Gun Club,
Slick Rick,
Underground Resistance,
JFA,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Almond,
Bush Tetras,
Sexual Harrassment,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jerry's Kids,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Derrick Morgan,
L. Decosne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bang On A Can,
Sugar Minott,
Sight & Sound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
DJ Sneak,
Connie Case,
Simply Red,
Roger Hodgson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Bar-Kays,
Harmonia,
the Swans,
Flipper,
The Stooges,
Al Stewart,
Drexciya,
Janne Schatter,
Black Pus,
Lou Reed,
Cymande,
John Lydon,
10cc,
Scott Walker,
The Offenders,
Moss Icon,
Faraquet,
Agent Orange,
Ohio Players,
Marine Girls,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Moon,
Minnie Riperton,
T.S.O.L.,
KRS-One,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.