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 Canada and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alison Limerick,
Ronan,
The Leaves,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Al Stewart,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Khruangbin,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Alarm Clocks,
Porter Ricks,
The Smoke,
The Star Department,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
Letta Mbulu,
Depeche Mode,
Aloha Tigers,
Soft Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Lower 48,
The Kinks,
The Slits,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hoover,
Panda Bear,
Jandek,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
E-Dancer,
The Vogues,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Make Up,
Motorama,
Bobby Sherman,
Jawbox,
Chrome,
Amon Düül II,
Spoonie Gee,
Peter and Kerry,
Nils Olav,
Marmalade,
Deadbeat,
Rosa Yemen,
JFA,
The Invisible,
Technova,
Ultimate Spinach,
Patti Smith,
The Red Krayola,
Aswad,
Cybotron,
Intrusion,
Iggy Pop,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra,
The Doors,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.