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 Kuwait and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Lungfish,
The Walker Brothers,
Todd Rundgren,
Tim Buckley,
Man Eating Sloth,
Flipper,
This Heat,
Siglo XX,
Glenn Branca,
Roger Hodgson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radiopuhelimet,
X-102,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Moon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Agitation Free,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fugazi,
Soft Cell,
The Names,
Skarface,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Make Up,
Dual Sessions,
The Kinks,
Stetsasonic,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eric Dolphy,
Don Cherry,
Bob Dylan,
The Moody Blues,
Carl Craig,
The Martian,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott Heron,
DJ Style,
Piero Umiliani,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Avey Tare,
Negative Approach,
Pantaleimon,
Royal Trux,
Joensuu 1685,
Mad Mike,
Scratch Acid,
Minutemen,
Slick Rick,
The Barracudas,
The Fuzztones,
Accadde A,
Agent Orange,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ponytail,
Ronnie Foster,
The Evens,
In Retrospect,
Fat Boys,
Main Source,
Ituana,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.