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 Cuba and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 H. Thieme to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Bobby Womack,
U.S. Maple,
John Foxx,
The Gories,
Suicide,
Tubeway Army,
Wire,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Eric Copeland,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ohio Players,
H. Thieme,
Swell Maps,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Supertramp,
Negative Approach,
Minny Pops,
Scratch Acid,
Fatback Band,
Animal Collective,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
New York Dolls,
Desert Stars,
Drexciya,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Japan,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Section 25,
Moebius,
OOIOO,
Young Marble Giants,
Public Enemy,
Motorama,
The Skatalites,
Jeff Lynne,
The Busters,
Letta Mbulu,
Kerri Chandler,
Lyres,
Pole,
Derrick Morgan,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jerry's Kids,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Todd Terry,
EPMD,
Donny Hathaway,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
T.S.O.L.,
Duran Duran,
Dawn Penn,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jacques Brel,
a-ha,
Scientists,
The Black Dice,
Quando Quango,
Stiv Bators,
Ossler,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.