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 Guinea and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Schoolly D to the electroclash 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quantec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Litter,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crooked Eye,
Charles Mingus,
Liliput,
Can,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Alton Ellis,
Popol Vuh,
Organ,
Althea and Donna,
Marine Girls,
Bauhaus,
Au Pairs,
Metal Thangz,
Boz Scaggs,
Robert Wyatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
Basic Channel,
Q65,
The Black Dice,
Aural Exciters,
EPMD,
the Human League,
LL Cool J,
Rites of Spring,
Deepchord,
The Cure,
The Move,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Warren Ellis,
Pussy Galore,
The Doobie Brothers,
Desert Stars,
Patti Smith,
Eric B and Rakim,
Howard Jones,
Bush Tetras,
Mars,
The Divine Comedy,
T.S.O.L.,
Zapp,
Terry Callier,
Stiv Bators,
Clear Light,
PIL,
Yazoo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The American Breed,
kango's stein massive,
David Bowie,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ice-T,
The Gun Club,
AZ,
Pantaleimon,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.