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 Palau and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fatback Band 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Junior Murvin,
Hashim,
Quantec,
Johnny Osbourne,
48th St. Collective,
Arcadia,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sandy B,
Stiv Bators,
Deadbeat,
Scratch Acid,
Soulsonic Force,
The Last Poets,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lungfish,
The Fugs,
Cheater Slicks,
Avey Tare,
Absolute Body Control,
Sun City Girls,
Surgeon,
The Slits,
The Pop Group,
Cymande,
Gang of Four,
X-101,
Franke,
Charles Mingus,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Theoretical Girls,
Bang On A Can,
Prince Buster,
Camouflage,
Niagra,
Hot Snakes,
Slick Rick,
Country Joe & The Fish,
In Retrospect,
The Gun Club,
Graham Central Station,
ABBA,
Gong,
The Fall,
Alton Ellis,
Donald Byrd,
The Young Rascals,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Yaz,
Hasil Adkins,
Ossler,
Jacques Brel,
Scion,
K-Klass,
The Pretty Things,
Joensuu 1685,
Aural Exciters,
John Lydon,
The Sound,
Inner City,
Roxy Music,
Soft Cell,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.