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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cowsills to the grime 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Reuben Wilson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Iggy Pop,
Gong,
Dual Sessions,
Faraquet,
Brick,
Sun City Girls,
Colin Newman,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brand Nubian,
Black Moon,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Doors,
Kas Product,
Scan 7,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Hoover,
Sixth Finger,
Kool Moe Dee,
EPMD,
Organ,
Q and Not U,
John Coltrane,
Clear Light,
Fela Kuti,
Shoche,
Oblivians,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ossler,
Angry Samoans,
Groovy Waters,
Wire,
The Durutti Column,
Crash Course in Science,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Seeds,
Morten Harket,
The Standells,
Television Personalities,
Procol Harum,
Thompson Twins,
Sparks,
Zero Boys,
OOIOO,
The Modern Lovers,
DNA,
Infiniti,
Blossom Toes,
Blancmange,
The Golliwogs,
Rod Modell,
The Gun Club,
Max Romeo,
Freddie Wadling,
The Victims,
Lee Hazlewood,
Glambeats Corp.,
cv313,
Mo-Dettes,
Swell Maps,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.