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 Cyprus and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Black Moon,
Matthew Bourne,
Deakin,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Chris Corsano,
The Blackbyrds,
the Human League,
The Dirtbombs,
Stereo Dub,
F. McDonald,
The Saints,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fall,
Barry Ungar,
Fela Kuti,
Faraquet,
New Order,
Eden Ahbez,
Soulsonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
The United States of America,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Spandau Ballet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Funky Four + One,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sister Nancy,
The Mojo Men,
Dorothy Ashby,
Don Cherry,
The Leaves,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Zero Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harry Pussy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jerry's Kids,
Agent Orange,
Delta 5,
Harpers Bizarre,
Thee Headcoats,
Fat Boys,
Brick,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Last Poets,
Juan Atkins,
Marshall Jefferson,
Depeche Mode,
MDC,
Sight & Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Newcleus,
Goldenarms,
June of 44,
Todd Terry,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.