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 Romania and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the punk 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sexual Harrassment,
K-Klass,
Ludus,
B.T. Express,
Interpol,
Rod Modell,
Brothers Johnson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Saccharine Trust,
Kool Moe Dee,
Excepter,
Funkadelic,
Moby Grape,
Yazoo,
Deepchord,
X-102,
Con Funk Shun,
Graham Central Station,
Delta 5,
Rites of Spring,
The Real Kids,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lalann,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scan 7,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Blackbyrds,
Colin Newman,
Sex Pistols,
John Coltrane,
The Angels of Light,
Television,
48th St. Collective,
ABC,
Second Layer,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Star Department,
Rekid,
DJ Style,
Section 25,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fugazi,
Silicon Teens,
Banda Bassotti,
Mission of Burma,
Whodini,
the Swans,
Mars,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Skatalites,
Gang Starr,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marcia Griffiths,
A Certain Ratio,
CMW,
Mr. Review,
The Cramps,
Delon & Dalcan,
E-Dancer,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.