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 Macedonia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Henry Cow to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Soulsonic Force,
Barry Ungar,
Franke,
Delon & Dalcan,
The J.B.'s,
Max Romeo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Interpol,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
ABBA,
Trumans Water,
Sexual Harrassment,
Unwound,
Jeff Lynne,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Beau Brummels,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gladiators,
Smog,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Terry Callier,
Cluster,
Simply Red,
Slave,
The Associates,
Schoolly D,
The Vogues,
Section 25,
Porter Ricks,
Crispian St. Peters,
ABC,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aswad,
Sixth Finger,
Visage,
Groovy Waters,
Nirvana,
Urselle,
Von Mondo,
Au Pairs,
Marc Almond,
Desert Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Subhumans,
Ronan,
Oblivians,
Angry Samoans,
Hot Snakes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Leonard Cohen,
Peter and Kerry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.