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 Pakistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Slits to the electroclash 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Infiniti,
MDC,
ABC,
Index,
Piero Umiliani,
Yaz,
The Fire Engines,
Barrington Levy,
R.M.O.,
Monks,
Gong,
Jandek,
Byron Stingily,
Second Layer,
Terry Callier,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cybotron,
Supertramp,
the Swans,
Hashim,
Amazonics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sugar Minott,
Can,
Laurel Aitken,
Michelle Simonal,
Agent Orange,
H. Thieme,
Henry Cow,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Dave Clark Five,
Fela Kuti,
Flipper,
The Residents,
Buzzcocks,
John Cale,
F. McDonald,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Altered Images,
John Coltrane,
The Misunderstood,
Loose Ends,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Franke,
Lindisfarne,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wasted Youth,
Lightning Bolt,
DJ Style,
the Human League,
Tommy Roe,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Leonard Cohen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bang On A Can,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.