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 Cape Verde and from Copenhagen.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Cheater Slicks to the rap 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
The Toasters,
Loose Ends,
Hot Snakes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Amon Düül,
Duran Duran,
The Smiths,
Maleditus Sound,
Swans,
Dennis Brown,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gichy Dan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Holt,
Donald Byrd,
Ultravox,
Fela Kuti,
Minny Pops,
Tomorrow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
T. Rex,
Godley & Creme,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hasil Adkins,
Hashim,
Stiv Bators,
U.S. Maple,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ultra Naté,
Eden Ahbez,
The Trojans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Silicon Teens,
Moss Icon,
The Last Poets,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ituana,
Ken Boothe,
Marcia Griffiths,
Flash Fearless,
Arthur Verocai,
Donny Hathaway,
Mantronix,
Spoonie Gee,
The Human League,
Anthony Braxton,
Amazonics,
Vladislav Delay,
The Techniques,
Archie Shepp,
Spandau Ballet,
Tom Boy,
Aswad,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Clear Light,
Bobby Byrd,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bill Near,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.