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 Cape Verde and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Yellowson to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Agent Orange,
Rekid,
Jeff Mills,
Chris Corsano,
Television,
Hardrive,
Black Flag,
Rakim,
E-Dancer,
Duran Duran,
Newcleus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scion,
Cecil Taylor,
the Slits,
Shuggie Otis,
B.T. Express,
X-Ray Spex,
Marine Girls,
D'Angelo,
Accadde A,
CMW,
This Heat,
Ten City,
Jeff Lynne,
Lightning Bolt,
Dark Day,
Moss Icon,
Robert Hood,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Suicide,
Franke,
Sun City Girls,
Arab on Radar,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David Axelrod,
Bauhaus,
Soft Machine,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Slits,
Sällskapet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Judy Mowatt,
The Birthday Party,
Brick,
Hasil Adkins,
Whodini,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Unwound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gerry Rafferty,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gastr Del Sol,
Qualms,
Matthew Halsall,
EPMD,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Velvet Underground,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
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.