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 Belize and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Excepter to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Sandy B,
The Toasters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Chris Corsano,
Jacob Miller,
Chris & Cosey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Last Poets,
The Buckinghams,
Jeff Lynne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bauhaus,
Fad Gadget,
the Association,
Nik Kershaw,
Ten City,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerri Chandler,
Peter and Kerry,
David Bowie,
Gichy Dan,
Ituana,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Desert Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Radiopuhelimet,
Surgeon,
Arcadia,
Joe Smooth,
Eden Ahbez,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cure,
Black Pus,
Mantronix,
Soul Sonic Force,
Echospace,
Quando Quango,
Yusef Lateef,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roger Hodgson,
Easy Going,
Lalann,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bill Near,
Deepchord,
Jacques Brel,
Smog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sun City Girls,
Bad Manners,
Gang of Four,
Mark Hollis,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.