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 Liberia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Glasgow.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Crispy Ambulance to the dance 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harry Pussy,
Spandau Ballet,
X-101,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Heaven 17,
Urselle,
Ultra Naté,
David Bowie,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Gun Club,
ABBA,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jerry's Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Main Source,
Marmalade,
The Vogues,
Scrapy,
Desert Stars,
Mandrill,
Black Sheep,
Tim Buckley,
The Cosmic Jokers,
B.T. Express,
The Pop Group,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scott Walker,
The Mojo Men,
James Chance & The Contortions,
T.S.O.L.,
Stiv Bators,
Black Bananas,
a-ha,
The Leaves,
Amon Düül,
The Gladiators,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Selecter,
Lou Christie,
The Walker Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Visage,
Avey Tare,
Leonard Cohen,
The Litter,
Minutemen,
June Days,
This Heat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pussy Galore,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kayak,
Rosa Yemen,
Eden Ahbez,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Letta Mbulu,
Todd Rundgren,
Porter Ricks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.