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 Georgia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba 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 Marvin Gaye to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Suburban Knight,
Ten City,
The Seeds,
Fad Gadget,
Sight & Sound,
The Slits,
Robert Wyatt,
Liliput,
Jacob Miller,
The Moleskins,
Lungfish,
DNA,
R.M.O.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Reagan Youth,
Albert Ayler,
EPMD,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moebius,
Soft Cell,
The Wake,
Easy Going,
Aaron Thompson,
Niagra,
June of 44,
Maurizio,
Whodini,
The Remains,
D'Angelo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Rapeman,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eurythmics,
Don Cherry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Clear Light,
Tomorrow,
New Order,
The Neon Judgement,
Section 25,
Kaleidoscope,
The Knickerbockers,
Mark Hollis,
The Barracudas,
Agitation Free,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Human League,
Cymande,
Los Fastidios,
Soulsonic Force,
Infiniti,
Black Sheep,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Zeros,
CMW,
Traffic Nightmare,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Matthew Bourne,
The Count Five,
Subhumans,
The Monks,
Joy Division,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.