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 Liberia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Motorama to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 ABC. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
The Durutti Column,
The Evens,
Dual Sessions,
Hot Snakes,
X-Ray Spex,
Television Personalities,
The Toasters,
Bill Wells,
Lalann,
Lou Christie,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Martian,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Neil Young,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tommy Roe,
Hoover,
Scott Walker,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mr. Review,
Mission of Burma,
The Dead C,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Al Stewart,
Reuben Wilson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ken Boothe,
Man Parrish,
Inner City,
Mandrill,
The Barracudas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
Talk Talk,
The Sound,
D'Angelo,
Camberwell Now,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fortunes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sister Nancy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Alice Coltrane,
Todd Terry,
Theoretical Girls,
Stiv Bators,
The Blues Magoos,
Duran Duran,
Spandau Ballet,
Tom Boy,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Freddie Wadling,
Grandmaster Flash,
Visage,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funky Four + One,
Rites of Spring,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.