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 Papua New Guinea and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Real Kids to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crooked Eye,
B.T. Express,
Sound Behaviour,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Model 500,
Max Romeo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Erasure,
Jacques Brel,
Darondo,
The Young Rascals,
Minutemen,
H. Thieme,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Unrelated Segments,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Spandau Ballet,
Sandy B,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sonic Youth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
UT,
Soft Cell,
Sixth Finger,
Tres Demented,
Ludus,
Stetsasonic,
Gang of Four,
Gong,
The Busters,
Marc Almond,
Sex Pistols,
Oblivians,
Cybotron,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jerry's Kids,
The Real Kids,
Nas,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Supertramp,
The Stooges,
Arthur Verocai,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Wyatt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Sheep,
Von Mondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Malaria!,
Wally Richardson,
Brand Nubian,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
K-Klass,
The Toasters,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.