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 Uganda and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Susan Cadogan,
Letta Mbulu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pussy Galore,
Juan Atkins,
Outsiders,
Scan 7,
Avey Tare,
Roxette,
Dorothy Ashby,
This Heat,
Boredoms,
Motorama,
Blossom Toes,
John Cale,
Sällskapet,
Television,
a-ha,
Quando Quango,
The Toasters,
Brothers Johnson,
Inner City,
Charles Mingus,
Lucky Dragons,
DJ Style,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
New Order,
The Mojo Men,
Shoche,
James White and The Blacks,
Ponytail,
Mo-Dettes,
Maleditus Sound,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
DNA,
the Slits,
Ultra Naté,
The Sonics,
The Blues Magoos,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Kinks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gabor Szabo,
Kaleidoscope,
Cymande,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Shuggie Otis,
Faraquet,
The J.B.'s,
Babytalk,
Eli Mardock,
K-Klass,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Near,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.