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 East Timor and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sexual Harrassment to the crunk 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Minor Threat,
Television,
Pantytec,
Joey Negro,
Deakin,
Panda Bear,
Electric Prunes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eric Copeland,
Arthur Verocai,
KRS-One,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Schoolly D,
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bang On A Can,
Mandrill,
Model 500,
New Order,
Spandau Ballet,
Reagan Youth,
Easy Going,
The Walker Brothers,
Pulsallama,
The Evens,
Robert Wyatt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lalo Schifrin,
Tom Boy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Young Marble Giants,
Monks,
The Moody Blues,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Sonics,
The Leaves,
One Last Wish,
Lou Reed,
Hasil Adkins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Y Pants,
A Certain Ratio,
Moby Grape,
Radiohead,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Desert Stars,
Khruangbin,
Bill Wells,
Harmonia,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sun City Girls,
Max Romeo,
John Lydon,
T. Rex,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.