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 Armenia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the funk 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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Duran Duran,
Brick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scion,
Dawn Penn,
Yazoo,
H. Thieme,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crooked Eye,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Severed Heads,
Surgeon,
The Martian,
Wings,
Index,
The Durutti Column,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Heaven 17,
Japan,
Ituana,
Radiohead,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Smog,
Mo-Dettes,
Porter Ricks,
Qualms,
Babytalk,
Kevin Saunderson,
Parry Music,
Robert Hood,
Minor Threat,
Jacques Brel,
X-Ray Spex,
Minnie Riperton,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Todd Terry,
Thompson Twins,
The Wake,
Pantytec,
Lightning Bolt,
Second Layer,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Monks,
Soft Cell,
Patti Smith,
Derrick May,
Country Teasers,
Skarface,
Kenny Larkin,
Graham Central Station,
T. Rex,
Colin Newman,
Kerri Chandler,
Stockholm Monsters,
Circle Jerks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sandy B,
Franke,
R.M.O.,
Funkadelic,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.