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 India and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 June Days to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
The Offenders,
DJ Sneak,
Patti Smith,
Ornette Coleman,
Von Mondo,
Silicon Teens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pulsallama,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mark Hollis,
Skaos,
Fat Boys,
Crash Course in Science,
Dead Boys,
Quantec,
Yaz,
Joe Finger,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vladislav Delay,
Ohio Players,
F. McDonald,
Jandek,
John Cale,
Lightning Bolt,
Yazoo,
Easy Going,
Tom Boy,
Cal Tjader,
The Techniques,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Womack,
Outsiders,
Godley & Creme,
Niagra,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Slits,
Grauzone,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ultra Naté,
Lucky Dragons,
Ossler,
Buzzcocks,
Funky Four + One,
The Saints,
Harmonia,
Tears for Fears,
Throbbing Gristle,
Agitation Free,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Star Department,
Grey Daturas,
Wire,
Basic Channel,
ABC,
Oneida,
Sällskapet,
Schoolly D,
Isaac Hayes,
Banda Bassotti,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.