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 Algeria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sexual Harrassment to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
D'Angelo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fire Engines,
Tears for Fears,
Das Ding,
Accadde A,
F. McDonald,
Laurel Aitken,
Tommy Roe,
Brick,
The Dirtbombs,
Skaos,
kango's stein massive,
Yaz,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Newcleus,
The Durutti Column,
H. Thieme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Zapp,
T.S.O.L.,
Roxette,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
The Gories,
The Searchers,
The Electric Prunes,
Arthur Verocai,
Pylon,
Second Layer,
Subhumans,
UT,
Slave,
the Soft Cell,
Pantytec,
Patti Smith,
Josef K,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aloha Tigers,
Johnny Clarke,
Andrew Hill,
The Modern Lovers,
Scrapy,
DNA,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Pus,
Aural Exciters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Erasure,
Whodini,
Rakim,
John Coltrane,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun City Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Popol Vuh,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.