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 Russia and from Milan.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
David McCallum,
Aural Exciters,
John Coltrane,
The New Christs,
Gichy Dan,
The Trojans,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Index,
Barrington Levy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
David Axelrod,
The Happenings,
the Soft Cell,
Pere Ubu,
Archie Shepp,
Minutemen,
the Human League,
Maleditus Sound,
Tomorrow,
Suburban Knight,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
L. Decosne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Absolute Body Control,
Bronski Beat,
Newcleus,
The Five Americans,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Fear,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Roger Hodgson,
The Invisible,
Minor Threat,
Robert Wyatt,
Tres Demented,
Prince Buster,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ludus,
Deakin,
Audionom,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
World's Most,
Bill Near,
One Last Wish,
Moby Grape,
Joensuu 1685,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eurythmics,
Andrew Hill,
Pet Shop Boys,
R.M.O.,
Graham Central Station,
The Sound,
The Toasters,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.