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 Kyrgyzstan and from London.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the grunge 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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Cowsills,
Jeff Lynne,
Dawn Penn,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Association,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
Pylon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ralphi Rosario,
Buzzcocks,
DJ Sneak,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fire Engines,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
Guru Guru,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Porter Ricks,
Hoover,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gabor Szabo,
Agent Orange,
These Immortal Souls,
Grey Daturas,
La Düsseldorf,
Rekid,
The Skatalites,
Mad Mike,
Hardrive,
Isaac Hayes,
Talk Talk,
X-Ray Spex,
Connie Case,
Robert Wyatt,
The Birthday Party,
Matthew Bourne,
R.M.O.,
Fear,
10cc,
Monolake,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Pop Group,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kurtis Blow,
Ken Boothe,
Magazine,
David McCallum,
One Last Wish,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Womack,
Drexciya,
Dual Sessions,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott Heron,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.