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 Sudan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Masters at Work to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Wasted Youth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Aaron Thompson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Newcleus,
Sonic Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
X-Ray Spex,
Judy Mowatt,
Curtis Mayfield,
FM Einheit,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Victims,
The Monks,
Monks,
The Birthday Party,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantytec,
Los Fastidios,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Zero Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Techniques,
Gang of Four,
Schoolly D,
Sam Rivers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mr. Review,
L. Decosne,
PIL,
Camouflage,
The Motions,
Neil Young,
Lyres,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pulsallama,
The Litter,
Thee Headcoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Bar-Kays,
Ornette Coleman,
Yusef Lateef,
Audionom,
The Mojo Men,
The Skatalites,
David Bowie,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Avey Tare,
Tomorrow,
Fatback Band,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fuzztones,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris & Cosey,
Mo-Dettes,
Au Pairs,
The Mummies,
Babytalk,
Dawn Penn,
Flash Fearless,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.