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 Uzbekistan and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the dance 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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Thompson Twins,
the Fania All-Stars,
This Heat,
Bush Tetras,
Inner City,
Deadbeat,
Nils Olav,
Glenn Branca,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
cv313,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Christie,
the Soft Cell,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marshall Jefferson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Wells,
The Searchers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Zero Boys,
Duran Duran,
Janne Schatter,
Black Sheep,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Velvet Underground,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Stereo Dub,
Jerry's Kids,
Pierre Henry,
The Offenders,
Josef K,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Alphaville,
Sam Rivers,
Dawn Penn,
Amon Düül II,
Dorothy Ashby,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mo-Dettes,
Oblivians,
Subhumans,
Eurythmics,
Reuben Wilson,
Angry Samoans,
Blossom Toes,
Bluetip,
Piero Umiliani,
Joe Finger,
OOIOO,
DJ Style,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aural Exciters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Walker Brothers,
The Kinks,
David Bowie,
Agent Orange,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.