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 Comoros and from Columbus.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the crunk 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Smiths,
Kayak,
Barrington Levy,
Pole,
Ten City,
cv313,
Stetsasonic,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Slits,
The Fugs,
Letta Mbulu,
Bobby Sherman,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Green,
Lou Reed,
Duran Duran,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Darondo,
Bush Tetras,
Magazine,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sound Behaviour,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bauhaus,
Dual Sessions,
Lindisfarne,
Brick,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Smoke,
Barbara Tucker,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moss Icon,
The Saints,
The Associates,
Althea and Donna,
Eric B and Rakim,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hardrive,
Josef K,
Skriet,
Desert Stars,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cecil Taylor,
Scrapy,
Crash Course in Science,
The American Breed,
Andrew Hill,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Sheep,
Man Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Barry Ungar,
The Standells,
Masters at Work,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harry Pussy,
Matthew Bourne,
Fela Kuti,
Brand Nubian,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.