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 Angola and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Josef K,
China Crisis,
Scrapy,
T. Rex,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Angels of Light,
Derrick May,
Marc Almond,
Urselle,
Pulsallama,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bluetip,
Swell Maps,
DJ Sneak,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
JFA,
Eric Dolphy,
Ludus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare,
F. McDonald,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Television,
Johnny Clarke,
Radiopuhelimet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sister Nancy,
The Grass Roots,
The Smiths,
The Victims,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul Sonic Force,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry's Kids,
Minor Threat,
Negative Approach,
Grey Daturas,
Unrelated Segments,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Arab on Radar,
Gong,
Quantec,
Barclay James Harvest,
Khruangbin,
The Fugs,
X-102,
Boredoms,
Bizarre Inc.,
Japan,
The Moleskins,
Ultra Naté,
Crispian St. Peters,
Procol Harum,
Harpers Bizarre,
Robert Görl,
Danielle Patucci,
Peter and Kerry,
Camouflage,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.