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 Estonia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 Aural Exciters to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Audionom,
The Busters,
Deadbeat,
Tubeway Army,
U.S. Maple,
Intrusion,
Erykah Badu,
Glenn Branca,
Black Flag,
The Fugs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Monks,
In Retrospect,
Aaron Thompson,
John Foxx,
Steve Hackett,
Rakim,
Dawn Penn,
Sonny Sharrock,
Goldenarms,
Nirvana,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Smog,
Gong,
Urselle,
Bill Near,
The Mojo Men,
Radiohead,
Mo-Dettes,
Loose Ends,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Standells,
Eric Copeland,
The Durutti Column,
Quantec,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Litter,
Fear,
Boz Scaggs,
The American Breed,
The Offenders,
Camberwell Now,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ice-T,
The Associates,
Absolute Body Control,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Sheep,
Joe Smooth,
Deepchord,
Connie Case,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Reed,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Gladiators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.