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 Thailand and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Young Rascals to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry 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 a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Barrington Levy,
Moebius,
Newcleus,
Cameo,
The Gladiators,
DJ Sneak,
Black Flag,
Ossler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Television,
Mo-Dettes,
Mantronix,
Eden Ahbez,
X-Ray Spex,
The Black Dice,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Todd Terry,
Wally Richardson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wings,
Grandmaster Flash,
Excepter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mandrill,
Howard Jones,
Porter Ricks,
Urselle,
Panda Bear,
The Real Kids,
Alison Limerick,
Crooked Eye,
Ultra Naté,
Yellowson,
Archie Shepp,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dennis Brown,
Vainqueur,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Pus,
Jacob Miller,
Suicide,
E-Dancer,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jeff Lynne,
Roy Ayers,
cv313,
Fela Kuti,
KRS-One,
Second Layer,
Scientists,
Los Fastidios,
Quantec,
Magma,
Deakin,
Bush Tetras,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Smoke,
Swell Maps,
Cecil Taylor,
Whodini,
Jawbox,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.