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 Nigeria and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Swans to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Monks,
David McCallum,
New Age Steppers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fela Kuti,
Matthew Halsall,
Gichy Dan,
H. Thieme,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Deepchord,
It's A Beautiful Day,
K-Klass,
Cluster,
Robert Görl,
Carl Craig,
Eden Ahbez,
Fluxion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marmalade,
Arcadia,
Arthur Verocai,
Sex Pistols,
Supertramp,
Soul II Soul,
New York Dolls,
Chris Corsano,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thee Headcoats,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Dirtbombs,
JFA,
The Barracudas,
Qualms,
Ultravox,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ultra Naté,
the Sonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Marc Almond,
Radiohead,
Henry Cow,
Deadbeat,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Boz Scaggs,
The Offenders,
The Black Dice,
Pere Ubu,
Blossom Toes,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Bananas,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.