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 Mali and from Lille.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fire Engines to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
The Misunderstood,
Parry Music,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Letta Mbulu,
Brick,
Y Pants,
Sixth Finger,
Livin' Joy,
The Modern Lovers,
The Beau Brummels,
Radiopuhelimet,
Morten Harket,
Idris Muhammad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wings,
The Victims,
Todd Rundgren,
Vladislav Delay,
Amon Düül II,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Man Parrish,
Man Eating Sloth,
Charles Mingus,
Camouflage,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nick Fraelich,
Scientists,
Nils Olav,
Black Flag,
Lightning Bolt,
Sun City Girls,
Black Moon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
T. Rex,
The Grass Roots,
The Gun Club,
the Slits,
Donald Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
Rites of Spring,
Silicon Teens,
Boz Scaggs,
The Angels of Light,
Slave,
The Stooges,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Anthony Braxton,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eden Ahbez,
Gang Starr,
Radiohead,
Fugazi,
Derrick May,
Lower 48,
The Toasters,
Warsaw,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.