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 Accra.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Icehouse to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
X-101,
Lyres,
The Blues Magoos,
Liliput,
MDC,
The Mummies,
The Saints,
Blancmange,
The Seeds,
Spoonie Gee,
D'Angelo,
Quadrant,
The Motions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joy Division,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Porter Ricks,
Connie Case,
Tropical Tobacco,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Guru Guru,
kango's stein massive,
Soul II Soul,
Grauzone,
U.S. Maple,
Derrick Morgan,
Glenn Branca,
The Invisible,
Bill Wells,
Pierre Henry,
Bauhaus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Buckinghams,
Newcleus,
Dave Gahan,
Gong,
Man Eating Sloth,
Absolute Body Control,
The Happenings,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magma,
The Cramps,
Vladislav Delay,
Funkadelic,
Byron Stingily,
the Soft Cell,
The Fugs,
World's Most,
The Red Krayola,
Outsiders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Neil Young,
Barclay James Harvest,
Technova,
Saccharine Trust,
Roxy Music,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.