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 Iraq and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mandrill to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Pharoah Sanders,
In Retrospect,
Pole,
PIL,
Agitation Free,
Banda Bassotti,
F. McDonald,
The Black Dice,
Joey Negro,
The Zeros,
Matthew Bourne,
Tim Buckley,
One Last Wish,
Niagra,
Tubeway Army,
10cc,
Con Funk Shun,
Harry Pussy,
The Velvet Underground,
Pantytec,
Gerry Rafferty,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tommy Roe,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bad Manners,
Eddi Front,
Brick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cymande,
Johnny Osbourne,
Stiv Bators,
The Detroit Cobras,
Masters at Work,
A Flock of Seagulls,
EPMD,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Soulsonic Force,
Anakelly,
Organ,
Swell Maps,
Kaleidoscope,
James White and The Blacks,
Harmonia,
Man Eating Sloth,
Barrington Levy,
Bronski Beat,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Todd Rundgren,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rod Modell,
Television Personalities,
Spoonie Gee,
Alison Limerick,
The Pop Group,
Connie Case,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.