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 Bahrain and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet 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 Frankie Knuckles to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Symarip,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
In Retrospect,
Amon Düül II,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lungfish,
Circle Jerks,
Swell Maps,
Sixth Finger,
Clear Light,
Ice-T,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
PIL,
Lightning Bolt,
Dead Boys,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sonic Youth,
The Fortunes,
Urselle,
X-Ray Spex,
Magma,
the Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mr. Review,
Little Man,
Idris Muhammad,
Rakim,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bill Wells,
Gabor Szabo,
Donny Hathaway,
Silicon Teens,
The Black Dice,
Masters at Work,
Y Pants,
Moss Icon,
Crash Course in Science,
Niagra,
Slave,
Gichy Dan,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Sound,
The Seeds,
DJ Style,
Crooked Eye,
Organ,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fatback Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Amazonics,
Youth Brigade,
Alphaville,
The Real Kids,
T.S.O.L.,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dark Day,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.