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 Costa Rica and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Johnny Osbourne to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a marimba and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
The Litter,
Vladislav Delay,
Jerry's Kids,
Porter Ricks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fatback Band,
Crime,
Metal Thangz,
Cluster,
Whodini,
Maleditus Sound,
John Coltrane,
Aloha Tigers,
Adolescents,
Dark Day,
Wally Richardson,
One Last Wish,
The Zeros,
The Saints,
The American Breed,
The Human League,
Hasil Adkins,
Marmalade,
The Slits,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Theoretical Girls,
KRS-One,
X-Ray Spex,
Flipper,
Rufus Thomas,
Thee Headcoats,
the Germs,
Tommy Roe,
The Misunderstood,
The Last Poets,
UT,
Shuggie Otis,
The Happenings,
D'Angelo,
Peter and Kerry,
Brothers Johnson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The United States of America,
F. McDonald,
The Victims,
Wasted Youth,
Qualms,
Grey Daturas,
Terry Callier,
The Golliwogs,
Amazonics,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Boogie Down Productions,
ABC,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wolf Eyes,
Yazoo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pantytec,
The Monks,
Barrington Levy,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.