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 Gabon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The American Breed to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar 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 harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Loose Ends,
Cal Tjader,
The Offenders,
Pussy Galore,
Mr. Review,
Rotary Connection,
The Neon Judgement,
Marvin Gaye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Association,
Electric Prunes,
Amazonics,
Deadbeat,
Cecil Taylor,
Swans,
Bush Tetras,
Kurtis Blow,
Con Funk Shun,
David McCallum,
Jimmy McGriff,
Au Pairs,
The Fortunes,
Nils Olav,
The Smoke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nirvana,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
T. Rex,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Warren Ellis,
Section 25,
Stockholm Monsters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Cowsills,
Isaac Hayes,
cv313,
Matthew Bourne,
The Tremeloes,
The Zeros,
Derrick Morgan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joey Negro,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Human League,
Masters at Work,
Funkadelic,
Bluetip,
Vainqueur,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mantronix,
Audionom,
Absolute Body Control,
June of 44,
Gang Starr,
The Move,
DNA,
Brand Nubian,
Harry Pussy,
Idris Muhammad,
Thompson Twins,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.