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 Uruguay and from Bologna.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Roxy Music to the jazz 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Second Layer,
Saccharine Trust,
Jeff Mills,
Peter & Gordon,
Thee Headcoats,
Idris Muhammad,
Chris & Cosey,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Slits,
the Normal,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lower 48,
Morten Harket,
Laurel Aitken,
The Velvet Underground,
Marc Almond,
New Age Steppers,
Prince Buster,
Suburban Knight,
Eddi Front,
Section 25,
Franke,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Yellowson,
Graham Central Station,
Scion,
Arcadia,
Marmalade,
T.S.O.L.,
Zapp,
Qualms,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fortunes,
Quando Quango,
Blancmange,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tommy Roe,
Japan,
The Raincoats,
Charles Mingus,
the Sonics,
Gong,
The Gories,
Bluetip,
Black Flag,
Stiv Bators,
K-Klass,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Seeds,
Donny Hathaway,
Marcia Griffiths,
a-ha,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mark Hollis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The J.B.'s,
CMW,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.