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 Bangladesh and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 T. Rex to the techno 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Malaria!,
Delta 5,
The Pretty Things,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Coltrane,
Aswad,
OOIOO,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Fugs,
Johnny Clarke,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blossom Toes,
Ultra Naté,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jacob Miller,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Thee Headcoats,
World's Most,
The Electric Prunes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fatback Band,
John Holt,
Fugazi,
Average White Band,
Rotary Connection,
The Red Krayola,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Toasters,
Mission of Burma,
E-Dancer,
Bill Wells,
The Searchers,
The Move,
Wally Richardson,
The Last Poets,
Main Source,
Slave,
Nils Olav,
Mary Jane Girls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soft Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
Freddie Wadling,
R.M.O.,
Godley & Creme,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fluxion,
The Vogues,
Von Mondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Chrome,
Ultimate Spinach,
Amon Düül,
a-ha,
Delon & Dalcan,
Yaz,
the Sonics,
The Gladiators,
Yusef Lateef,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hashim,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.