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 Luxembourg and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fall,
the Sonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Human League,
Echospace,
In Retrospect,
Liliput,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Shadows of Knight,
It's A Beautiful Day,
A Certain Ratio,
Derrick Morgan,
Porter Ricks,
Cymande,
The Victims,
Schoolly D,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rapeman,
Moss Icon,
New Age Steppers,
Model 500,
Johnny Clarke,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sex Pistols,
The Grass Roots,
Adolescents,
Carl Craig,
Crooked Eye,
Charles Mingus,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ituana,
E-Dancer,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lalann,
D'Angelo,
The Gun Club,
X-Ray Spex,
The Last Poets,
Joe Finger,
Thee Headcoats,
Das Ding,
Delta 5,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Morten Harket,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Skaos,
The United States of America,
Jacob Miller,
John Lydon,
Desert Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
JFA,
Youth Brigade,
The Knickerbockers,
Ohio Players,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Durutti Column,
Tubeway Army,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cecil Taylor,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.