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 Chile and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Colin Newman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Infiniti,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crooked Eye,
The Gap Band,
The Durutti Column,
Cheater Slicks,
Idris Muhammad,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
John Lydon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kaleidoscope,
Throbbing Gristle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
Spandau Ballet,
Aswad,
Absolute Body Control,
Todd Rundgren,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cybotron,
F. McDonald,
Blancmange,
Sister Nancy,
Nirvana,
The Blackbyrds,
In Retrospect,
Negative Approach,
Whodini,
The Busters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Swell Maps,
Public Enemy,
Stiv Bators,
The Flesh Eaters,
June of 44,
Pylon,
Magma,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wasted Youth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ronan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barry Ungar,
Radio Birdman,
Sam Rivers,
The Vogues,
The Divine Comedy,
Freddie Wadling,
Piero Umiliani,
Aloha Tigers,
Isaac Hayes,
Technova,
Desert Stars,
Interpol,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.