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 Czech Republic and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sexual Harrassment to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Pus,
Cameo,
Lindisfarne,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Thee Headcoats,
Eddi Front,
Arthur Verocai,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Con Funk Shun,
Nirvana,
Sandy B,
The Blues Magoos,
Grey Daturas,
Camouflage,
Chris & Cosey,
Mantronix,
The Five Americans,
Main Source,
Black Moon,
Quadrant,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Wake,
Saccharine Trust,
Wasted Youth,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tim Buckley,
Roger Hodgson,
Das Ding,
B.T. Express,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
New York Dolls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Connie Case,
The Martian,
Girls At Our Best!,
Make Up,
Model 500,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Barrington Levy,
Desert Stars,
Fad Gadget,
Stiv Bators,
Ponytail,
Ornette Coleman,
Fear,
Bill Wells,
Oblivians,
Ken Boothe,
Black Flag,
Bauhaus,
Kas Product,
Nation of Ulysses,
Maurizio,
Depeche Mode,
Pagans,
Shuggie Otis,
Derrick May,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.