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 Egypt and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Vladislav Delay to the rock 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Ituana,
Skriet,
James White and The Blacks,
Surgeon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Red Krayola,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joey Negro,
Bobby Byrd,
Funkadelic,
Hardrive,
The Monks,
Suicide,
the Slits,
Erasure,
Funky Four + One,
The Residents,
Roxy Music,
Neu!,
The J.B.'s,
The Human League,
Marvin Gaye,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Pretty Things,
These Immortal Souls,
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
Nick Fraelich,
Junior Murvin,
Goldenarms,
Warren Ellis,
The Star Department,
The Angels of Light,
Cameo,
X-102,
Loose Ends,
China Crisis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Supertramp,
Letta Mbulu,
Moby Grape,
Bush Tetras,
Slick Rick,
The Cure,
Henry Cow,
EPMD,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marine Girls,
FM Einheit,
Aural Exciters,
The Skatalites,
Blake Baxter,
The Knickerbockers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barbara Tucker,
Rites of Spring,
B.T. Express,
the Fania All-Stars,
Easy Going,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.