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 Tunisia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin 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 H. Thieme to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Ken Boothe,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dead Boys,
ABC,
Anthony Braxton,
The Flesh Eaters,
Echospace,
Supertramp,
Unrelated Segments,
Cheater Slicks,
Pussy Galore,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Grass Roots,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Quando Quango,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Wake,
Neu!,
Model 500,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kurtis Blow,
Moss Icon,
Faraquet,
Gabor Szabo,
Grauzone,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pantaleimon,
Heaven 17,
The Names,
Boredoms,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scan 7,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Toni Rubio,
cv313,
Dave Gahan,
The Gladiators,
Niagra,
Eric Dolphy,
Porter Ricks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Inner City,
Pantytec,
Eli Mardock,
Ronnie Foster,
U.S. Maple,
ABBA,
Terry Callier,
Accadde A,
Main Source,
Tom Boy,
Dual Sessions,
The Gories,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nirvana,
Section 25,
Black Sheep,
Rod Modell,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.