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 Burkina and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator 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 The Fortunes to the punk 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
Sex Pistols,
the Slits,
Mission of Burma,
10cc,
48th St. Collective,
Soul II Soul,
The Walker Brothers,
Sällskapet,
Robert Wyatt,
Marc Almond,
The Modern Lovers,
Motorama,
Suicide,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barbara Tucker,
Bill Wells,
Das Ding,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magazine,
Icehouse,
Kas Product,
Stereo Dub,
Ornette Coleman,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gap Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Zero Boys,
Yellowson,
Scratch Acid,
Quando Quango,
Rod Modell,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ronan,
Livin' Joy,
Mark Hollis,
LL Cool J,
The American Breed,
June of 44,
Eyeless In Gaza,
R.M.O.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bad Manners,
John Lydon,
Harmonia,
The Dirtbombs,
Wings,
Wire,
Bob Dylan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dennis Brown,
Black Moon,
Minor Threat,
DJ Sneak,
X-101,
Arcadia,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.