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 Thailand and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 B.T. Express to the funk 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Toni Rubio,
Alphaville,
Glenn Branca,
Monolake,
Depeche Mode,
OOIOO,
The Human League,
The Dead C,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kool Moe Dee,
Erykah Badu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rites of Spring,
Monks,
Infiniti,
The Monks,
Neu!,
Tommy Roe,
Procol Harum,
Andrew Hill,
Maurizio,
Goldenarms,
Funky Four + One,
The Offenders,
Organ,
Stockholm Monsters,
Amon Düül,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blancmange,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Pop Group,
China Crisis,
Eric Dolphy,
Skriet,
Donny Hathaway,
Niagra,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Velvet Underground,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Mr. Review,
Eddi Front,
Sex Pistols,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Saints,
The Leaves,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
This Heat,
Dark Day,
Freddie Wadling,
The Moody Blues,
Pere Ubu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bauhaus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Bar-Kays,
Masters at Work,
Negative Approach,
Metal Thangz,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.