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 Kiribati and from Stockholm.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 One Last Wish to the rap 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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
X-101,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Terry Callier,
Andrew Hill,
Tropical Tobacco,
Flipper,
Minnie Riperton,
Ponytail,
Brothers Johnson,
Sällskapet,
Alice Coltrane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
Trumans Water,
Q and Not U,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fugs,
the Soft Cell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Clear Light,
Deakin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wally Richardson,
Deepchord,
Symarip,
Subhumans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Invisible,
Black Sheep,
R.M.O.,
Black Moon,
Sister Nancy,
Fear,
David Bowie,
The Dave Clark Five,
Icehouse,
Whodini,
New Order,
Amazonics,
Cecil Taylor,
Public Image Ltd.,
Nick Fraelich,
Warsaw,
Tubeway Army,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Youth Brigade,
Scratch Acid,
Scan 7,
Joe Finger,
MC5,
Monks,
Don Cherry,
John Foxx,
Ken Boothe,
The New Christs,
Grey Daturas,
Bluetip,
Aswad,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Barracudas,
Jacob Miller,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.