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 Singapore and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Beijing.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Last Poets to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Kayak,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pylon,
The Sonics,
The Pretty Things,
Unwound,
The Doobie Brothers,
John Cale,
Duran Duran,
Man Parrish,
Mandrill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
Gong,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare,
Pantaleimon,
Sällskapet,
La Düsseldorf,
Dawn Penn,
Crime,
The Busters,
H. Thieme,
UT,
Adolescents,
John Foxx,
The Zeros,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tropical Tobacco,
Derrick Morgan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Starr,
ABC,
The United States of America,
Groovy Waters,
Inner City,
Amazonics,
The Gladiators,
Brass Construction,
The Golliwogs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
New York Dolls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul II Soul,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joy Division,
Crooked Eye,
Leonard Cohen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Amon Düül,
Tres Demented,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Moon,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.