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 Congo and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Pop Group to the grime 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Wolf Eyes,
Subhumans,
the Slits,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scratch Acid,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang Green,
Interpol,
Pole,
Fear,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Sister Nancy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Electric Prunes,
The Motions,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare,
Aloha Tigers,
Hoover,
Pantytec,
Ultra Naté,
Bob Dylan,
Zero Boys,
Radiohead,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Basic Channel,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quadrant,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Johnny Clarke,
Cameo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Parry Music,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yazoo,
Saccharine Trust,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Massinfluence,
Swans,
the Human League,
Kas Product,
Harmonia,
Cecil Taylor,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Germs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Youth Brigade,
Todd Terry,
Charles Mingus,
The Beau Brummels,
Traffic Nightmare,
B.T. Express,
X-102,
Amon Düül II,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.