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 Chad and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Chocolate Watch Band to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
DJ Style,
Marmalade,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Joy Division,
Simply Red,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Surgeon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Loose Ends,
Motorama,
Stetsasonic,
Aaron Thompson,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tres Demented,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moebius,
Henry Cow,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
cv313,
Thompson Twins,
The Seeds,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rekid,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deakin,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Intrusion,
Bob Dylan,
The J.B.'s,
Sixth Finger,
Judy Mowatt,
Pantytec,
Deepchord,
Whodini,
Young Marble Giants,
Fear,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cure,
Procol Harum,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Piero Umiliani,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sandy B,
Howard Jones,
David Axelrod,
James White and The Blacks,
Minutemen,
Heaven 17,
Spandau Ballet,
The Cramps,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Parrish,
Jeff Mills,
Mars,
Porter Ricks,
Royal Trux,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.