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 Kiribati and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Cybotron,
Lungfish,
Fatback Band,
DJ Sneak,
Section 25,
The Misunderstood,
Hot Snakes,
Nas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Aural Exciters,
The Moleskins,
Harry Pussy,
In Retrospect,
The Saints,
Gang Green,
Nirvana,
Essential Logic,
The Fuzztones,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Normal,
Godley & Creme,
Dual Sessions,
Mars,
Severed Heads,
Los Fastidios,
Motorama,
Mission of Burma,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rites of Spring,
Chris Corsano,
Althea and Donna,
Deepchord,
John Coltrane,
Scientists,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
Qualms,
The Fugs,
The Move,
Deakin,
KRS-One,
Guru Guru,
Index,
Hasil Adkins,
Whodini,
The Techniques,
Black Pus,
Bad Manners,
The Sound,
The Star Department,
Camouflage,
Soulsonic Force,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sister Nancy,
Brick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fugazi,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.