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 Guinea-Bissau and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Mad Mike to the rock 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vladislav Delay record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Black Sheep,
Jacques Brel,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brick,
Silicon Teens,
Fad Gadget,
Cybotron,
Bobby Byrd,
Make Up,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
MC5,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Toasters,
the Human League,
Roger Hodgson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Connie Case,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Gories,
Sugar Minott,
Sandy B,
Amon Düül II,
Oneida,
New York Dolls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Flipper,
Don Cherry,
Barry Ungar,
The Velvet Underground,
B.T. Express,
Scratch Acid,
The Leaves,
Joe Finger,
The Offenders,
Ohio Players,
The Black Dice,
Isaac Hayes,
Suicide,
Howard Jones,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pierre Henry,
The Fortunes,
Siglo XX,
Pantaleimon,
Anthony Braxton,
Tears for Fears,
The Walker Brothers,
Stereo Dub,
The Golliwogs,
New Age Steppers,
Mars,
A Certain Ratio,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris & Cosey,
Shoche,
Rod Modell,
The Red Krayola,
The Zeros,
The Music Machine,
Echospace,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.