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 Colombia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer 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 Flash Fearless to the grime 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
The Dead C,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tears for Fears,
Qualms,
Toni Rubio,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Theoretical Girls,
Jeff Lynne,
The Stooges,
Eli Mardock,
Country Teasers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jacques Brel,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joensuu 1685,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Normal,
David McCallum,
The Beau Brummels,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bill Near,
Pere Ubu,
Skaos,
UT,
Amazonics,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Smog,
The Red Krayola,
Heaven 17,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crash Course in Science,
The Residents,
The American Breed,
Aswad,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lucky Dragons,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Q65,
Colin Newman,
The Offenders,
Section 25,
Matthew Halsall,
Mantronix,
Wings,
John Foxx,
Brick,
The Move,
the Germs,
Sonic Youth,
Lakeside,
Urselle,
Swell Maps,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
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.