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 Mongolia 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barclay James Harvest to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Outsiders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Donald Byrd,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Alarm Clocks,
The J.B.'s,
Marvin Gaye,
Cluster,
Eric Dolphy,
Crime,
MC5,
These Immortal Souls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gun Club,
Grey Daturas,
Malaria!,
The Leaves,
Pere Ubu,
Hasil Adkins,
Blancmange,
the Sonics,
Alton Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Porter Ricks,
T. Rex,
Lightning Bolt,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Human League,
Rosa Yemen,
Letta Mbulu,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wire,
Roxy Music,
Swans,
Sister Nancy,
D'Angelo,
Unrelated Segments,
Aaron Thompson,
Eve St. Jones,
Bang On A Can,
Stereo Dub,
Agent Orange,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Womack,
Marshall Jefferson,
DJ Sneak,
Black Bananas,
Kurtis Blow,
Skaos,
Rapeman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Todd Terry,
Tom Boy,
Deadbeat,
The Pretty Things,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Terrestrial Tones,
Little Man,
The Sound,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Busters,
Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685.
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.