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 Ivory Coast and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Crash Course in Science to the jazz 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
China Crisis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joey Negro,
Scan 7,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bootsy Collins,
Quantec,
Crooked Eye,
Jandek,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Stooges,
Mr. Review,
Ituana,
The Fuzztones,
Marcia Griffiths,
Interpol,
Sun City Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Bauhaus,
Dave Gahan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Human League,
ABBA,
Agent Orange,
Ludus,
The Motions,
Slave,
Sex Pistols,
DNA,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Trumans Water,
Symarip,
Camouflage,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jesper Dahlback,
Letta Mbulu,
Underground Resistance,
Lower 48,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Wake,
Hardrive,
The American Breed,
Magma,
Skarface,
Toni Rubio,
Maleditus Sound,
The Residents,
Sound Behaviour,
Infiniti,
Robert Hood,
Unwound,
This Heat,
Eli Mardock,
Pantaleimon,
Sun Ra,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.