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 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Fire Engines to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
The Durutti Column,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Absolute Body Control,
Crooked Eye,
Sister Nancy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Lydon,
ABC,
Jerry's Kids,
Matthew Bourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minutemen,
Scan 7,
Whodini,
The Smoke,
the Normal,
The Evens,
cv313,
Scion,
Man Parrish,
Flipper,
Rufus Thomas,
Newcleus,
The Dead C,
Man Eating Sloth,
Josef K,
Bluetip,
Ohio Players,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Heaven 17,
Bang On A Can,
Jacques Brel,
Peter and Kerry,
Quantec,
The Monks,
Youth Brigade,
Schoolly D,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Sheep,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Byron Stingily,
Black Flag,
Yaz,
Peter & Gordon,
Sugar Minott,
The Moleskins,
Scratch Acid,
Pussy Galore,
CMW,
Con Funk Shun,
Oneida,
The Human League,
the Slits,
Janne Schatter,
Cluster,
Hoover,
Nik Kershaw,
Darondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Von Mondo,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.