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 Tajikistan and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kevin Saunderson to the funk 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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
Camouflage,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Sheep,
The Gladiators,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Grass Roots,
Buzzcocks,
MC5,
Average White Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mantronix,
Ten City,
Fad Gadget,
Black Flag,
Public Enemy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Josef K,
Brass Construction,
Kayak,
Terry Callier,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Minutemen,
Au Pairs,
Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wings,
Brand Nubian,
Duran Duran,
The Pop Group,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mo-Dettes,
Bluetip,
Banda Bassotti,
Second Layer,
Deakin,
The Searchers,
Bill Wells,
Soft Machine,
Kurtis Blow,
Gregory Isaacs,
Piero Umiliani,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Black Moon,
a-ha,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Busters,
The Young Rascals,
Nation of Ulysses,
10cc,
Interpol,
Ronan,
Warren Ellis,
Inner City,
The American Breed,
Arthur Verocai,
Pagans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.