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 Israel and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terrestrial Tones to the grunge 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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Smog,
Wasted Youth,
Rekid,
La Düsseldorf,
Lindisfarne,
The Red Krayola,
Carl Craig,
Deakin,
Avey Tare,
Nas,
the Sonics,
The Monks,
Loose Ends,
Bootsy Collins,
Juan Atkins,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Q and Not U,
Sam Rivers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oblivians,
Marvin Gaye,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deepchord,
Mission of Burma,
The Cramps,
Robert Hood,
The Black Dice,
Cluster,
The Five Americans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gang Starr,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Byrd,
John Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Absolute Body Control,
Mark Hollis,
World's Most,
Kurtis Blow,
Brothers Johnson,
The Searchers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Country Teasers,
Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Harmonia,
Eddi Front,
The Barracudas,
U.S. Maple,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eric Dolphy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Heaven 17,
The Martian,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
kango's stein massive,
Soul Sonic Force,
New Order,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.