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 Saudi Arabia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tokyo.
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 spring reverb 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 Wally Richardson to the grime 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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Motorama,
Sexual Harrassment,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Blackbyrds,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Mills,
Underground Resistance,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang Starr,
Hardrive,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Andrew Hill,
Mary Jane Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marmalade,
D'Angelo,
The Red Krayola,
Bootsy Collins,
The Walker Brothers,
Iggy Pop,
Yellowson,
Tears for Fears,
The Residents,
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Thee Headcoats,
June Days,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Supertramp,
8 Eyed Spy,
Minor Threat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Organ,
The Gladiators,
Electric Prunes,
Rotary Connection,
Television,
Aloha Tigers,
Liliput,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Skriet,
Isaac Hayes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pagans,
Scrapy,
Funky Four + One,
Porter Ricks,
Bobby Sherman,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Modern Lovers,
Cecil Taylor,
Y Pants,
Donald Byrd,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fatback Band,
Index,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.