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 Mexico and from Calgary.
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 Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ 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 Tom Boy to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Unwound,
F. McDonald,
AZ,
Lucky Dragons,
Aaron Thompson,
Deepchord,
Mantronix,
Junior Murvin,
Minor Threat,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Almond,
Circle Jerks,
Depeche Mode,
Gichy Dan,
Don Cherry,
Neu!,
Interpol,
Kerri Chandler,
Glenn Branca,
Sonic Youth,
Mandrill,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hardrive,
Amon Düül II,
The Monochrome Set,
Agent Orange,
Dual Sessions,
Roxy Music,
Dennis Brown,
Bang On A Can,
Main Source,
Nirvana,
Avey Tare,
Radio Birdman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Monolake,
Bobby Byrd,
T.S.O.L.,
Darondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Quando Quango,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Derrick May,
Mark Hollis,
Mission of Burma,
Rites of Spring,
Khruangbin,
The Evens,
Charles Mingus,
Minny Pops,
Ralphi Rosario,
Adolescents,
Alphaville,
Talk Talk,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Reed,
Robert Görl,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Blackbyrds,
the Germs,
The Skatalites,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.