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 Zambia and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Detroit Cobras to the grime 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Crispy Ambulance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Youth Brigade,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rakim,
Y Pants,
Mars,
Monolake,
The Last Poets,
Section 25,
Audionom,
Masters at Work,
K-Klass,
Ituana,
Bill Near,
Ultra Naté,
Technova,
Bluetip,
Wasted Youth,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Faust,
Gastr Del Sol,
Television,
Bill Wells,
The Knickerbockers,
Easy Going,
Joe Smooth,
Lindisfarne,
Rekid,
Ohio Players,
The Evens,
Subhumans,
David Axelrod,
F. McDonald,
Swans,
Goldenarms,
Junior Murvin,
Lyres,
Amon Düül,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gang Starr,
Don Cherry,
A Certain Ratio,
The Divine Comedy,
Iggy Pop,
The Angels of Light,
Inner City,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ludus,
Mark Hollis,
Tropical Tobacco,
Matthew Halsall,
Jacques Brel,
Byron Stingily,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scratch Acid,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DJ Sneak,
Nick Fraelich,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.