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 Nicaragua and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the grime 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Deepchord,
Bootsy Collins,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cheater Slicks,
The Martian,
Talk Talk,
Roger Hodgson,
Andrew Hill,
Pierre Henry,
Amon Düül II,
Skaos,
Urselle,
Smog,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Names,
Joe Finger,
Panda Bear,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stockholm Monsters,
Severed Heads,
Khruangbin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Charles Mingus,
Eve St. Jones,
The Tremeloes,
The Smoke,
R.M.O.,
Siglo XX,
Symarip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Saccharine Trust,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Leonard Cohen,
LL Cool J,
Au Pairs,
World's Most,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
JFA,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Agitation Free,
Wally Richardson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Surgeon,
Desert Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Lightning Bolt,
Altered Images,
The Shadows of Knight,
T. Rex,
Wings,
Donald Byrd,
DNA,
These Immortal Souls,
Schoolly D,
Ohio Players,
The Toasters,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.