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 Niger and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Holger Czukay 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 Faust to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator 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 theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Make Up,
Hardrive,
Ultra Naté,
Crash Course in Science,
Crispy Ambulance,
Procol Harum,
This Heat,
Lyres,
Porter Ricks,
Soft Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Lalann,
Kas Product,
Sonic Youth,
The Martian,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Can,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Stetsasonic,
The Young Rascals,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lee Hazlewood,
Harmonia,
The Fugs,
The Beau Brummels,
Ponytail,
the Fania All-Stars,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Girls At Our Best!,
Popol Vuh,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
John Cale,
Faraquet,
Fatback Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Mark Hollis,
Sixth Finger,
Television Personalities,
Wally Richardson,
The Leaves,
Jeff Mills,
The Knickerbockers,
Mandrill,
Eric Copeland,
Iggy Pop,
Wire,
One Last Wish,
Kayak,
Kool Moe Dee,
La Düsseldorf,
Byron Stingily,
The Alarm Clocks,
Todd Rundgren,
Susan Cadogan,
Goldenarms,
The Tremeloes,
Nas,
Isaac Hayes,
The Move,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.