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 Kuwait and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 Johannesburg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 The Walker Brothers to the crunk 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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Black Pus,
Idris Muhammad,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dave Gahan,
Radio Birdman,
Hasil Adkins,
Godley & Creme,
The Monks,
Thompson Twins,
Von Mondo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rosa Yemen,
Jandek,
Iggy Pop,
Sound Behaviour,
Byron Stingily,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Stetsasonic,
Absolute Body Control,
Robert Hood,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Index,
Marine Girls,
Clear Light,
Nils Olav,
Slick Rick,
The Music Machine,
The Golliwogs,
Y Pants,
Gang of Four,
Fat Boys,
Radiohead,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Boz Scaggs,
One Last Wish,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Prince Buster,
The Beau Brummels,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
DJ Style,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Main Source,
EPMD,
Nico,
John Cale,
The Names,
The Residents,
Moebius,
Throbbing Gristle,
Johnny Clarke,
Jawbox,
Jeff Mills,
Eddi Front,
The Divine Comedy,
The Misunderstood,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nas,
Nick Fraelich,
Sex Pistols,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.