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 Brazil and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Kerrie Biddell to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Rod Modell,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amazonics,
Connie Case,
Prince Buster,
Eddi Front,
Cal Tjader,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Doors,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Graham Central Station,
Toni Rubio,
Altered Images,
June Days,
Siglo XX,
Nils Olav,
Pagans,
Pantaleimon,
Pierre Henry,
The Victims,
Fela Kuti,
Crooked Eye,
Pussy Galore,
DJ Sneak,
Lungfish,
Robert Hood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Quantec,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
Gastr Del Sol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Beau Brummels,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
cv313,
Stockholm Monsters,
Half Japanese,
Essential Logic,
Kenny Larkin,
Bronski Beat,
Flash Fearless,
Rapeman,
The Martian,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Bar-Kays,
New Age Steppers,
T. Rex,
The Associates,
The Five Americans,
Can,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Radiohead,
Man Parrish,
The Selecter,
Trumans Water,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roxy Music,
Second Layer,
The United States of America,
Dead Boys,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.