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 Malawi 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the dance 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Slave,
Faraquet,
Das Ding,
Y Pants,
Arcadia,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Popol Vuh,
Gil Scott Heron,
Saccharine Trust,
Soft Cell,
Ludus,
The Gladiators,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Suburban Knight,
Depeche Mode,
Stetsasonic,
Cymande,
One Last Wish,
Japan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lalann,
Country Teasers,
David Axelrod,
The Real Kids,
Eurythmics,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Avey Tare,
T.S.O.L.,
Parry Music,
Stiv Bators,
Nik Kershaw,
Eric Copeland,
Terry Callier,
Audionom,
Mary Jane Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Hutcherson,
H. Thieme,
the Slits,
Prince Buster,
Ultimate Spinach,
Laurel Aitken,
Spoonie Gee,
The Star Department,
The Young Rascals,
Don Cherry,
Roxette,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deepchord,
The Sonics,
Yusef Lateef,
Basic Channel,
Malaria!,
Make Up,
Gabor Szabo,
Wings,
Reuben Wilson,
Rotary Connection,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.