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 Jordan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sam Rivers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
X-101,
Excepter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Spandau Ballet,
Los Fastidios,
D'Angelo,
Duran Duran,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Sound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rapeman,
Sun City Girls,
Robert Görl,
Theoretical Girls,
Jerry's Kids,
Joey Negro,
Rites of Spring,
Main Source,
ABBA,
Grauzone,
Sex Pistols,
Sandy B,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
DJ Sneak,
La Düsseldorf,
Neu!,
Sound Behaviour,
The New Christs,
Severed Heads,
Lucky Dragons,
Liliput,
Max Romeo,
Sparks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Frankie Knuckles,
FM Einheit,
the Fania All-Stars,
One Last Wish,
Amon Düül II,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Selecter,
Pere Ubu,
Glenn Branca,
T. Rex,
Swans,
Magma,
Iggy Pop,
China Crisis,
Silicon Teens,
The Standells,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric Copeland,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Music Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Zero Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Stooges,
The Buckinghams,
Lebanon Hanover,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.