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 Indonesia and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 DJ Sneak to the grime 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Marmalade,
Kurtis Blow,
Mission of Burma,
Stiv Bators,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cameo,
Arab on Radar,
Bang On A Can,
The American Breed,
Cecil Taylor,
The Leaves,
Soft Cell,
Thee Headcoats,
The Red Krayola,
Circle Jerks,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Litter,
Magma,
Alton Ellis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pharoah Sanders,
Outsiders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Matthew Bourne,
John Cale,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Vogues,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Sneak,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nas,
Fad Gadget,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Moss Icon,
Juan Atkins,
Kaleidoscope,
Nick Fraelich,
Simply Red,
Mo-Dettes,
The Last Poets,
Gabor Szabo,
the Normal,
Funkadelic,
Organ,
Kenny Larkin,
The Music Machine,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Sound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lungfish,
Camouflage,
The Standells,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Cowsills,
The Moody Blues,
The Doors,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The J.B.'s,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.