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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 ABC to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Animal Collective,
Supertramp,
Kool Moe Dee,
Michelle Simonal,
Roy Ayers,
Ituana,
Cheater Slicks,
The Litter,
Peter and Kerry,
Dead Boys,
John Coltrane,
Dawn Penn,
Sunsets and Hearts,
London Community Gospel Choir,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
Josef K,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bill Near,
Chris & Cosey,
Roger Hodgson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rekid,
Lyres,
Thompson Twins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sugar Minott,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Country Teasers,
Pantaleimon,
Roxette,
Judy Mowatt,
Babytalk,
Joe Finger,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
David McCallum,
The Techniques,
Drexciya,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Christie,
Shoche,
Make Up,
Los Fastidios,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bang On A Can,
The Angels of Light,
Sandy B,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Cramps,
The Grass Roots,
Eric Copeland,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Robert Hood,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suburban Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Au Pairs,
Franke,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.