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 Dominican Republic and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Crash Course in Science to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Electric Prunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
K-Klass,
Neil Young,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gichy Dan,
Funky Four + One,
Lee Hazlewood,
James White and The Blacks,
Lightning Bolt,
Shoche,
Rakim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Junior Murvin,
Byron Stingily,
the Bar-Kays,
Spoonie Gee,
Wally Richardson,
Mary Jane Girls,
LL Cool J,
Sight & Sound,
Juan Atkins,
Can,
Suburban Knight,
the Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
Jerry's Kids,
Stereo Dub,
The Pop Group,
Curtis Mayfield,
Albert Ayler,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Porter Ricks,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
La Düsseldorf,
Sandy B,
Nils Olav,
Lakeside,
Minor Threat,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Tremeloes,
Q and Not U,
Black Pus,
Lucky Dragons,
The Vogues,
The Mummies,
Youth Brigade,
Bauhaus,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Coltrane,
B.T. Express,
Gabor Szabo,
The Smoke,
Crispy Ambulance,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.