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 Bhutan and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Alice Coltrane to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mission of Burma,
10cc,
Crime,
John Coltrane,
The Monochrome Set,
the Normal,
Nils Olav,
Lou Reed,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Buzzcocks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sexual Harrassment,
Qualms,
Franke,
Goldenarms,
Marine Girls,
The Motions,
The Busters,
Blossom Toes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lalann,
Yusef Lateef,
The Slits,
Ossler,
The Sonics,
Monks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David Bowie,
Scratch Acid,
John Holt,
Roxy Music,
Aaron Thompson,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Leaves,
Chris & Cosey,
Reagan Youth,
Spandau Ballet,
Alphaville,
Dennis Brown,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Seeds,
Das Ding,
Rosa Yemen,
Tommy Roe,
X-Ray Spex,
LL Cool J,
Q65,
Ponytail,
Cybotron,
Bauhaus,
Black Sheep,
Johnny Clarke,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Near,
Todd Rundgren,
DNA,
Gastr Del Sol,
Harpers Bizarre,
Surgeon,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.