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 Yemen and from New York.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Deadbeat to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Beau Brummels,
Spoonie Gee,
Quando Quango,
Niagra,
Lower 48,
Infiniti,
Marshall Jefferson,
OOIOO,
Funky Four + One,
Roger Hodgson,
The Walker Brothers,
Black Pus,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Darondo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boredoms,
Yaz,
Chrome,
Tres Demented,
Big Daddy Kane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Neu!,
Harmonia,
The Smiths,
Banda Bassotti,
Loose Ends,
Junior Murvin,
Bootsy Collins,
Khruangbin,
UT,
Amon Düül II,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
Robert Görl,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Quadrant,
Lakeside,
Cheater Slicks,
Kas Product,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Curtis Mayfield,
Thompson Twins,
Mr. Review,
Popol Vuh,
Oblivians,
Ludus,
The Martian,
Aswad,
Monolake,
The Offenders,
Letta Mbulu,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lungfish,
Model 500,
Index,
Matthew Halsall,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.