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 Turkey and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Neon Judgement to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Supertramp,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eden Ahbez,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
New Age Steppers,
DNA,
Funkadelic,
Slave,
Fela Kuti,
Swans,
Oneida,
Interpol,
Alphaville,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Niagra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mad Mike,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mark Hollis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Moody Blues,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fortunes,
Marine Girls,
The Pop Group,
The Human League,
Motorama,
Inner City,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lindisfarne,
Joe Smooth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ohio Players,
Desert Stars,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Seeds,
Neu!,
Echospace,
Magazine,
Mo-Dettes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nirvana,
The Flesh Eaters,
Visage,
Matthew Bourne,
Skriet,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
Moby Grape,
The Gun Club,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joy Division,
Cheater Slicks,
Charles Mingus,
Blake Baxter,
Yusef Lateef,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.