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 Australia and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Vainqueur to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Joyce Sims,
Lalann,
Darondo,
Lakeside,
The Raincoats,
Thompson Twins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Harry Pussy,
Jimmy McGriff,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Johnny Osbourne,
Charles Mingus,
Sixth Finger,
Ronan,
Swans,
Severed Heads,
Cheater Slicks,
Howard Jones,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Derrick May,
Andrew Hill,
Bush Tetras,
Fatback Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Loose Ends,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Vainqueur,
The Gap Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Pere Ubu,
Masters at Work,
Alton Ellis,
Bang On A Can,
Mars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Sonics,
Little Man,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blancmange,
Eurythmics,
Monolake,
Barry Ungar,
The Mummies,
Youth Brigade,
Ten City,
Mr. Review,
Sam Rivers,
Minnie Riperton,
Gerry Rafferty,
Saccharine Trust,
The Last Poets,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crooked Eye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Harmonia,
The Moleskins,
The Stooges,
China Crisis,
The Star Department,
Mad Mike,
Grandmaster Flash,
June Days,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.