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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the crunk 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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Don Cherry,
R.M.O.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Index,
Infiniti,
The Human League,
Eve St. Jones,
Q and Not U,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Happenings,
Theoretical Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Normal,
FM Einheit,
Alison Limerick,
Piero Umiliani,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sparks,
Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Barrington Levy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roy Ayers,
Pantaleimon,
ABBA,
Prince Buster,
Mad Mike,
Khruangbin,
James White and The Blacks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Hashim,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Johnny Clarke,
Anakelly,
Whodini,
Radio Birdman,
The Slackers,
The Victims,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Interpol,
The Residents,
Deakin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ornette Coleman,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cowsills,
The Moleskins,
Minnie Riperton,
Visage,
Patti Smith,
Joyce Sims,
Idris Muhammad,
Derrick May,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.