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 Libya and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet 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 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
The Cramps,
Deakin,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Wolf Eyes,
Make Up,
Metal Thangz,
the Swans,
The Fire Engines,
The Trojans,
Sandy B,
Gang Green,
Crash Course in Science,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Sound,
Swans,
Whodini,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Human League,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Matthew Bourne,
Moebius,
Infiniti,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
La Düsseldorf,
Junior Murvin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Peter & Gordon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pantaleimon,
Sarah Menescal,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cowsills,
Graham Central Station,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eli Mardock,
Leonard Cohen,
The Techniques,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Freddie Wadling,
Stiv Bators,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fugazi,
Roy Ayers,
cv313,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bronski Beat,
Zero Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
The Saints,
Khruangbin,
Stereo Dub,
Minor Threat,
The Durutti Column,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.